


L'Amour Detruit

by SousChefSean



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: Blood and Gore, Character Death, F/M, Horror, Kidnapping, Mutilation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Out of Character, Romance, Tragedy, Trauma, Villain Protagonist, Yandere, one shots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:40:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 56,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27112064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SousChefSean/pseuds/SousChefSean
Summary: The Breidablik creates a contract between Summoner and Hero, giving the two a much stronger bond than they would have otherwise. But very rarely, the contract and bond become too strong. And the Hero becomes far too attached to the Summoner...
Relationships: Ira | Ayra/Summoner | Eclat | Kiran, Katua | Catria/Summoner | Eclat | Kiran, L'Arachel/Summoner | Eclat | Kiran, Sheeda | Caeda/Summoner | Eclat | Kiran
Comments: 32
Kudos: 70





	1. Ayra - Eliminating Type

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween!

* * *

_When all you have is a hammer, every problem becomes a nail_

* * *

Ayra had never been much of a romantic.

Her youth had been spent honing her swordsmanship, mastering the demanding Isaachian style with no thought spared for frivolities like love or tea parties. Even when she became an adult and capable of bearing children, she never wasted time trying to find a partner – her brother had already sired a son when she was just leaving adolescence. Shannan was the heir to the throne and continuing Od’s bloodline was his burden to bear, leaving her with no obligation to do the same. With Isaach facing imminent destruction in war and ensuring Shannan’s safety as her top priority, she could not afford to let herself be distracted by childish delusions of romance.

Denigrating herself as Cimbaeth’s sellsword further injured her tattered pride, but the ultimate humiliation was surely allying herself with a Graanvale nobleman. She had no doubts that Lord Sigurd was an honorable man who travelled in equally honorable company, and she owed him a great debt for his service rescuing Shannan – one she had paid the ultimate price repaying – but she could never truly stomach fighting alongside a noble of Isaach’s sworn enemy. She always kept her distance from the other members of Sigurd’s merry band, emotionally if not quite physically, in spite their occasional efforts to the contrary.

She watched, with only the slightest pang of regret, as the men and women of the company opened their hearts to one another and were blessed with child. Any occasional contrition at seeing the newly blossoming families was ruthlessly quashed – she was a princess of Isaach with a debt to repay and a prince to safeguard. Nothing else mattered, and with Shannan quickly growing into a fine young man himself, that left her obligation to Lord Sigurd as her sole concern. With head held high and sword firmly grasped in hand, she joined the Chalphy prince as he marched to weed out the conspirators against him.

She is proud to say she died in the same manner she lived.

Arvis’ treachery should have been the final chapter in her story…and yet, against all reason, she still drew breath. She was no longer in Jugdral or any land known to it and in the company of total strangers, but she quickly decided it made little difference. Someway, somehow, Kiran had restored her life, and she found herself with a new debt to be paid.

It took a while before she truly appreciated how much _simpler_ things were in Askr. Zenith was no less tumultuous than Jugdral, but at least the bloodshed was straightforward. She no longer had to grit her teeth to fight alongside her allies or fear underhanded machinations flipping the status quo on its head. Kiran told her whom to kill and she killed them – it was a basic system that demanded nothing of her save the skills and experience she’d spent her life honing.

In all honesty, she’d never intended to get close to anyone in the Order of Heroes, platonically or otherwise. She’d kept herself closed off for so long, and Sigurd’s army had no qualms giving her a wide berth, so she’d just assumed things would carry on the same as always. The first few times someone tried to make conversation, she brushed them off or scolded them for wasting time. But the Order’s members were nothing if not persistent, and every day saw someone trying to chat her up at some point or another. A few, like Prince Ephraim or Karel, had an understanding and only troubled her for a mutually beneficial spar, but in time, most decided she wasn’t worth the trouble and left for greener pastures. The end result being that while most heroes at least had a professional respect for her abilities, practically no one personally liked or enjoyed being around her – with one exception.

Kiran always paid her a visit, day in, day out.

She tried telling him off at first too – their tactician had better things to do than waste time making small talk with her – but he gave as good as he got. He was particularly fond of reciting an adage from his world: “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy,” he’d recount with a wry smile. She knew damn well she wasn’t the only one he stopped by to see, so his excuse of taking a little break to keep from burning out didn’t hold much water, but it wasn’t long before she realized she was the only one he made sure to visit every day. He didn’t even try to chat every time – sometimes he’d just sit on the side and watch her train.

One day, she finally grew tired of indulging his trips and lowered her blade to address him directly. “What are you getting out of this?” She didn’t bother clarifying what she meant, knowing Kiran at least respected her enough to not feign ignorance and yank her chain.

He gave her a dry look in response. “Come on, Ayra, I’ve told you what happens to Jack enough times now.”

The same pretext as always, but one she wasn’t letting him get away with anymore. “Stop playing games.” She fixed him with a critical glare. “If a break was all you wanted, I’m the last person you would go to. What does seeing me do that you can’t get from anyone else? What’s so important that you have to get it from me every day?” Her tone made it clear she would be less than pleased if he tried to dodge her questions.

He got the message loud and clear, putting his hands up in a conciliatory gesture with an apologetic smile. “Alright, fine, you win. Honestly, I’m surprised it took you this long to call me out.” He locked his fingers together and let his hands rest between his open legs. “Well, you know I stop by here every day. Do you know who _else_ I pay a visit to in my spare time?”

“From what I overhear, anyone and everyone. You don’t have much consistency beyond me.”

“Yeah-huh.” He nodded along, denoting her answer as correct. “A good chunk of those are cordial visits – just making sure everyone’s doing alright – but the rest are for making observations. For what it’s worth, my trips here are a little from column A, a little from column B.”

She blinked once in disbelief, hooked on his penultimate sentence. “Observations,” she repeated, not quite sure she’d heard him right.

“Sure!” he affirmed, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “You were one of the first Heroes I ever summoned, and you made one hell of an impression. No offense to everyone else, but it was pretty clear nobody else was as disciplined and driven as you. You’re more or less the standard I measure everybody up against. I come here every day to study your form and movements and then go watch someone else to see how they stack up and what they do differently.”

Ayra couldn’t believe what she was hearing; he was practically trying to learn her style just by _watching_ her. She couldn’t help but put her hand over her eyes and lightly shake her head. The worst part was that she’d come to know Kiran well enough to realize his absurd approach actually made a fair bit of sense from his perspective – as a scholar from a world where swordsmanship was a dead art, he’d probably come to understand a great many things through detached ‘observations’. Unfortunately for him, this was the kind of skill that could only be grasped through practical experience.

Wordlessly, she grabbed a practice sword from the weapons rack and brought it over to push into his confused hands. “You want to learn how I fight? I’ll gladly help – but you’ll learn _my_ way.”

He wasn’t stupid and quickly understood her meaning, though he clearly didn’t agree. “Oh come on, Ayra, you know I’m not a fighter,” he protested. “Aren’t there, like, fundamentals I should have before trying to learn specifics?”

“A fair point,” she conceded, pulling him to his feet and dragging him into the training ring with her. “Lucky for you, I’m a patient woman and you’re a fast learner. You’ll have all the information you want in no time at all. Now, get into a fighting stance.”

He complied with surprising swiftness given his apparent reluctance and assumed an awkward posture, his training sword gripped in front of him. One look at him had her shaking her head and stepping forward to correct him. “All wrong. Just at a glance I can tell your legs are too far apart and you’re holding the handle too tightly. Here, be more like this…”

For the next hour or so, she had him practice sliding in and out of an ideal stance. It was rough going at first, but she hadn’t been doling out idle flattery when she called him a fast learner – by the end of the session, he was more or less able to get into the right position from any number of test swings. “This has been informative, but I do have to get going.” He told her after returning to neutral from an overhead chop. “Robin and Soren want my thoughts on this new mage formation they’ve been working on.”

“Very well,” she conceded, “but I expect to see you back here tomorrow. You’ve made time for me every day thus far, so I don’t want to hear any excuses about your schedule being full.” Her demand was delivered with an attitude that promised he would dearly regret it if he pushed his luck and tried to weasel out anyway.

“I got it, don’t worry!” he quickly assured her, placing the training blade back on the rack. “Believe me, I know better than to make _you_ mad. I probably won’t make it at the same time, but I will be here. You can count on that.”

And so he left, his steps wearier than when he’d came in. Ayra returned to her own training, though she refrained from straining herself too much – she had a duel with Ike scheduled in about half an hour, and it wouldn’t do to face him with anything less than full strength. She steeled herself for the coming bout and began mentally reviewing what she knew of the mercenary’s style. While her focus should’ve been fixed solely on the imminent fight…she couldn’t help but notice how empty the training room felt now that Kiran was gone.

* * *

If nothing else, Kiran kept his word. He did indeed return the next day, and didn’t even try to run when she told him they’d be clashing blades that day. Nor did he skip out the following day, or the day after that; he always dutifully showed up to Ayra’s spot, at some time or another, to learn her lessons. It got to the point when he began planning his schedule around gaps for training. When he told her when he’d be free to make his visit, Ayra found herself altering her schedule around him much the same way. Whenever he came, she made sure she had no other obligations and wouldn’t be worn out by particularly strenuous exercises. Occasionally, one or both of them would be preoccupied with a mission and the day would be lost, but such circumstances were discussed well in advance.

Training him, she was reminded of the lessons she gave Shannan during their time on the run. Obviously, her nephew was the better student of the two – Od’s blood and a childhood spent revering the sword masters of Isaach ensured as much – but Kiran’s diligence was at least commendable. He learned fast, though he lacked the instincts necessary to truly wield that blade as she did; she blamed the peaceful life he’d led before Askr for that. All the same, passing her skills on to an eager pupil was…enjoyable. She was surprised to find herself waking up one day and actually looking forward to her session with Kiran. She wished that she could recall Shannan’s instruction as fondly, but his training had been fueled by a sense of rushed urgency that afforded her no time to enjoy the mentorship role. Now, however, there were no concerns like finding food or escaping pursuers to sully her good mood – there was only Ayra and her student.

Seeing Kiran had become so ingrained into her daily routine that, on the one day he failed to appear at his promised time, she took it far worse than one would’ve expected. She’d been told to expect him in the evening, in the last hour before dinner, but he never came through the doors of the secluded training room she used. At first, she merely thought him late; he’d never been tardy before, but was bound to get stalled by something sooner or later. Then, one minute turned to five, and a feeling of dread began growing in her gut. Once five minutes became ten, she was seized by a spike of fear and began racing through the possible calamities that could’ve befallen him.

Had he been abducted? Assassinated? Grievously injured in a spar? Bedridden with a debilitating illness?

She promptly bolted from her relatively isolated training dojo and made haste to the caste proper in search of answers, her steps driven by a panic she’d not felt since the days of escorting her nephew out of Isaach. Were she in a sounder state of mind, she’d have noticed how none of the heroes she passed looked remotely perturbed or out of sorts. If anything, most gave her odd looks when they saw how anxious she was, especially given her reputation as perpetually cool and collected.

She threw open the doors leading to one of the castle’s central halls and saw him standing on the other end waving off Sigrun, the pegasus knight captain from Tellius. When he turned his head and saw her gaping at him, he winced and nervously averted his eyes.

“Hey, I’m sorry I’m late, it’s just that my meeting was really dragging on and –”

Whatever words would’ve come next were caught in his throat when she closed the distance between them and frantically gripped his shoulders. “Are you okay?!” She implored, a frenzied glint in her eyes. “You’re not hurt or anything, right?!”

Kiran only managed a few stunned blinks before stammering out a response. “Y-yeah, I’m fine. Like I said, I just got held up a bit in my meeting, that’s all.” At his assurance, she let out a deep, relieved sigh, her hold on him loosing in turn. “I think I should be asking if _you’re_ alright. Seeing you this out of sorts…it isn’t like you, Ayra.”

 _Isn’t like me?_ She thought, a considerate frown growing from her lips. Now that he pointed it out…she realized he was right. What had she just done? Fly off in a blind panic because her protégé was a little late to their training session? That _was_ completely out of character for her…what had possessed her to react like that to something so minor? Since when did the proud princess of Isaach abandon her composure at the slightest bit of tardiness from her student?

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Kiran began, drawing her attention back to him, “but I think that maybe you’ve gotten wound up a little too tight. Remember what happens when you’re all work and no play? All you’ve done for weeks on end is train and fight, and I think the stress of that might be starting to get to you.”

Her gut reaction was to refute him and insist her time was being put to good use…but the way she just acted made her acknowledge that perhaps he had a point. It would explain her uncharacteristic behavior as well as anything else. She’d just gotten a little high-strung and it was affecting her judgement, that was all. With that in mind, maybe she _did_ need something of a break, if only for a little while.

“…Perhaps you’re right.” She conceded, her head hung low. “But what would you have me do? You can say ‘play’ all you want, I’m _not_ degrading myself to chasing butterflies with the manakete children.”

“Funny as that would be to see, I’m not so heartless I’d order you through that for a laugh. Given what’s gotten you like this, you should probably avoid physical activity anyway. Just go sit down somewhere quiet and read a book or something. You know, give your body a chance to unwind and relax.”

Despite her best effort, she couldn’t keep from scoffing and rolling her eyes. “Oh yes, that sounds wonderful. There’s nothing I’d rather be doing than reading insipid fairy tales and trite love stories.” She’d overheard enough mindless gushing from that one Ylissean pegasus knight to know using books as escapism would do her more harm than good.

Her snark earned a deadpan stare from Kiran. “You know, Ayra, there is this little subset of writing called _non_ fiction. It’s incredible – you actually learn something from what you read, so you can still be productive without being up and about.”

While that was true, Ayra still wasn’t particularly enthused. Wasting hours digging through the castle library looking for a subject she actually cared about would just make her more anxious when she thought about how much time she was losing. If only all the pointless chaff had already been filtered somehow…

“What books do you have in your office?” She asked, looking him dead in the eye.

“Huh?” He responded, having been caught off guard by the unusual inquiry.

“You have a lot of books in your office, right? I’ve seen them the few times I’ve been up there. What are they about?”

“Uh, strategy and tactics mostly.” He answered, still a bit flustered by the turn her train of thought had taken. “There’s also some history here and there. Oh, and a few on politics and etiquette – Clarine said I should be ready to deal with any unpleasant nobles, summoned or otherwise.” Well, that didn’t sound so bad. It would serve her well to brush up on tactics, for whenever Kiran wasn’t around on minor missions. Even reviewing her knowledge of statecraft couldn’t hurt, in spite of the fact she was too dead in Jugdral to put any of it to use.

“That should suffice.” She informed him. “I’ll be up after dinner to start browsing if it’s alright with you. You still have that couch by the wall for me to sit at, right?”

“Sure, I don’t really mind if you – wait what?” He interrupted his answer with a befuddled widening of his eyes. “You want to _stay_ in my office while you read?” She might’ve been seeing things, but she could’ve sworn his question was punctuated with a slight reddening of his cheeks.

“Why wouldn’t I? I need somewhere quiet – despite how many people visit you, the library would have far worse traffic. And I can just put whatever I take back on the shelf without wasting time.”

Much to her annoyance, he cocked an eyebrow and perplexedly peered at her. “Well, I guess that’s true, but wouldn’t it be better if…” She raised an eyebrow of her own, challenging him to refute her. She was victorious, as he soon chuckled and shook his head with an affable grin. “You know what? Never mind. I’d be happy to let you crash on the couch at night. Consider it repayment for all the sword lessons so far.”

Ah, how kind of him to remind her. “Speaking of, don’t think those are over.” She let her lips curl into the ghost of a confident smirk and poked a finger into his chest. “Just because I’ll take it a little easier in the near future doesn’t mean you get an excuse to skip practice. Teaching you has been the most relaxing part of my day for a while now, so if I need to unwind, that’s the last thing I should stop doing.”

He didn’t take long to add a dauntless edge to his own grin and pull her wrist away. “What, and miss out on getting wacked in the shin every five minutes? Wouldn’t dream of it.”

She shook her head in equal parts exasperation and playfulness. “You wouldn’t get hit so much if you fixed that flaw in your guard I keep telling you about. For the dozenth time, stop letting your arms lock up when you block high.”

He put on an air of faux rumination before defeatedly shrugging his shoulders. “Sorry, can’t visualize whatever it is you’re talking about. Guess you’ll just have to show me in person tomorrow.” She let out a light-hearted hum of contentment, now reassured that they’d still be spending time together. “But that’s a future problem; for now, let’s just get something to eat and then I can help you pick out something to read.”

She silently nodded and followed his lead towards the dining hall. She hadn’t expected things to turn out the way they did, but found she had little to complain about. True, cutting back on her training somewhat rubbed her the wrong way, but she’d honed her skills to the point that a little rustiness was far more preferable to losing her mental fortitude the way she had. And…a not insignificant part of her felt that being with Kiran longer more than made up the difference.

* * *

She never would’ve imagined it, but Kiran had been right: reading _did_ relax her. Or, at least, reading with him in his office in the evening relaxed her. When it was just the two of them, the sound of his quill scratching on parchment the only noise in the room, she felt more at peace than she had in years. Before, her nights were spent falling into bed with her muscles still tightened from a day of exertion. Now, however, she could practically feel her body unwind as she spent the early hours of the night reclining into Kiran’s couch.

That wasn’t to say it was a perfect state of affairs. Kiran, being as important to the Order as he was, invariably had guests even that late at night. Most were there for legitimate reasons, and as such Ayra had little difficulty blocking them out while she read. Though, on a handful of occasions she could hear an inquiry about her presence forming, but Kiran was reliable enough to always pull their attention off her. What was far more dreadful was the occasional child or airhead who came in purely to make inane conversation or try to drag Kiran off for some pointless nonsense or another. The latter especially put a scowl on her face and made it impossible to think about anything other than how much she wanted to tell them to shut up and leave. Again, Kiran stepped in and mollified them before she could lose her temper, usually with an assurance he’d be happy to entertain them the next day.

However annoying all of that could be, the most insufferable part of their arrangement was the fact that Kiran was inevitably pulled away to attend to genuine business a handful of nights. In his absence, she could feel the rumblings of the same frightful anxiety begin to claw at the corners of her mind. Left to her solitude, she found herself unable to effectively read the words on the page of her book, let alone comfortably relax. Only his return soothed the growing tension and brought back her peace of mind.

Coupled with their training sessions in the daytime, Ayra was starting to see Kiran as an irreplaceable part of her daily life. Which, she rationalized, must’ve been why she became so incensed when he was forced to leave during what she’d regarded as their time together. Sure, she still missed him somewhat outside of those moments, but his absence then as at least expected. Besides, she couldn’t very well win spars if she was too worried about what Kiran was doing, could she?

After several weeks spent reading with Kiran late at night, she was passing through the castle halls on her way back to the training grounds after lunch when she unintentionally eavesdropped on a conversation around the corner that froze her in place.

“–someone other than _Ayra_ of all people.” A young girl’s voice said.

Ayra had never cared much for gossip, seeing it as a waste of time that only tended to bring about infighting, but she was also rarely the subject of it. Add to that the fact that something in that girl’s tone didn’t quite sit right with her, and it was little wonder she decided to discretely peer around the wall and listen in.

“No, I swear it’s true!” A little blonde girl with purple highlighted twintails exclaimed. Elise, she thought her name was, was speaking with an older blonde in a large hoop skirt with much messier twintails and a small brunette in a yellow dress. They were, respectively, Corrin, Chrom and Ike’s little sisters, whom she’d often seen healing their older brothers after a training bout. “Just ask around, tons of people have seen it! Not only do they train together all the time, but she’s started spending every night up in his office with him!”

Well, it was obvious what these rumors were about. “Okay, so they’re around each other a lot.” Lissa admitted. “But being in a _relationship_?” Wait, what? “I mean, have you ever actually _talked_ to Ayra? I watched Lon’qu of all people fall in love, and I can’t see her together with anyone, let alone Kiran. He plays around with Fae and Tiki for Naga’s sake! Can you imagine him with someone like Ayra?”

 _Considering_ I’m _the one he makes time for every day, yes, I can imagine it!_ She internally fumed as her pretty features distorted into an ugly grimace. She didn’t even fully understand _why_ this pointless conversation was getting her so riled up – she just knew she was going to strangle that Ylissean brat if she didn’t shut her mouth!

“I kind of agree with Lissa.” Mist confessed. “Ayra’s…not exactly the most loveable person around. She beat Ike in a spar a few weeks back, and instead of helping him back up or anything, she just told him what he did wrong and walked away! I know Ike didn’t really care, but _I_ thought it was pretty rude. And she’s apparently like that to everyone. Plus, there’s a lot of people who look up to and admire Kiran – if he wanted to be with someone, there are bound to be other options. Like, um, Lyn or maybe that Genny girl. I bet those would be cute couples!”

 _What the hell was_ that _supposed to mean_?! Ayra angrily thought, her hands clenching into fists as she grit her teeth. What, was she not good enough for Kiran?! The sheer nerve of that impertinent little –! _I swear, when I get my hands on those two…!_

“Oh, you two are hopeless!” Elise berated them. “Xander’s not all that different from Ayra, and he and Mozu are really sweet together! Just you watch, I’ll bet Kiran and Ayra officially announce it any day now. _And_ they’ll be an adorable couple. Opposites attract, after all!”

Lissa gave her Nohrian counterpart an unimpressed look. “If Ayra was capable of being attracted to someone, maybe you’d have a point. Don’t get your hopes up, Elise – of all the couples I’ve seen in my life, that one’s the most unbelievable.”

Elise merely pouted and shook her head as she and her friends walked off down the hall. When they began to leave, it took every ounce of self-control Ayra had to not lunge forward and start throttling those two infuriating twits. Thankfully for them, she wasn’t so mad that she couldn’t understand that wringing the necks of Chrom and Ike’s little sisters over petty slander wouldn’t end well for her. Unfortunately for Ayra, that meant she had no outlet as she stood there, visibly shaking with fury.

 _Who do they think they are, deciding what I can or can’t feel?! Excuse me for not swooning at every vaguely attractive fool who crosses my path! And Kiran should be looking at ‘other options’?! It’s none of their business what he and I do with our time! Besides, it’s not like…_ As her livid thoughts reached their conclusion, her smoldering flames of rage were doused by an icy bucket of clarity. _…It’s not like we actually are together._

She sighed and unclenched her fists, letting them hang limp as she cast her eyes to the stone floor. What was she doing? So what if the girls wanted to frivolously gossip about possible relationships? Why did she care so much what they thought of her and Kiran? Even if she did feel something for him…he’d never reciprocate it. She was just his trainer and the reading was a way to repay her for that – he’d said as much himself, right? There was no point in getting so vexed over something that would never happen anyway…

Still, unpleasant rumors were something Kiran should know about. As the summoner and tactician, his reputation was important to maintain in the Order. He deserved to know about anything that might put that in jeopardy. With that in mind, she turned around and headed further into the castle, towards his tower. It was a short trip, bereft of any interruptions; most of the other heroes were starting their afternoon training, making the halls relatively empty. One quiet knock on the door later, she heard his voice beckon her inside and made her entrance.

“What can I – Ayra?” He began what sounded like a recited stock greeting before noticing whom his visitor was. “I thought that our session was in three hours? Not that I mind you coming to see me, but you almost always stick to your schedule.”

She came to a stop in front of his desk and crossed her arms. “I was on my way back to the training grounds when I overheard some rumors that you should know about.”

“Rumors?” He sought an explanation with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes. It would seem that some people have taken notice of how often we’re with one another and have concluded that we’re…” she nervously pinched the fabric of her gloves and diverted her eyes off Kiran, “…involved with each other. Romantically.” She awkwardly added the final bit of clarification with a faint hint of heat in her cheeks.

“O-oh.” She could hear the dumbfounded shock in his voice even as she still refused to look at him and see the look on his face. “W-well, that’s…”

“I should’ve expected it, really.” She admonished herself. “A man and a woman, spending so much time alone together…it’s only natural people would start gossiping. Given how I’m seen by most of the Order, I understand if…” _…if you’d rather stop being around me._ She meant to say it, but her chest started aching so much at the thought of doing so that she couldn’t form any more words.

“Well, I for one can think of worse things being said about me.” Kiran spoke up in her unexpected silence. “I-I mean, if those rumors were, you know, true…that wouldn’t be the worst thing ever, would it?”

 _…What?_ She finally turned her gaze back to Kiran and saw him nervously looking away himself, his cheeks flushed red as he wrung his hands together. “You…don’t mind?”

“Why would I?” He responded before anxiously coughing into his hand. “A-after all, who wouldn’t want to be with such a strong, beautiful, courageous woman?” He seemed to think that was the wrong thing to say, given how he winced the moment he was finished, but Ayra could feel her heart pounding and the heat in her cheeks intensifying.

Almost unconsciously, she walked around his desk to stand directly in front of him. “Do you really mean that?” She asked, her voice barely above a whisper and twinged with a ghost of hopefulness.

Now that she was so close, Kiran thought it appropriate to rise to his feet himself. He did his best to cast away the nerves plaguing him, his face rapidly steeling into an expression of total seriousness. “I’d never lie about something like this. I’ve had feelings for you for most of the time you’ve been here. To be honest,” his composure faltered and he shamefully glanced to the side, “I came to visit you so much because I was hoping you’d offer to train me. I didn’t think you’d take it well if flat out ordered you to do it, but it was the only way I could think for us to spend time together.” Again, he couldn’t help but wince at his own actions. “In hindsight, that was really creepy and annoying, wasn’t it?”

Just like when she’d first demanded to know why he was always trying to visit her (a moment which now felt like a lifetime ago), Ayra couldn’t believe what she was hearing. But whereas then she’d felt exasperation and even annoyance, now she felt flattered and flustered. “Has all this been your idea of _courting_ me?”

“Well,” his lips curled up into a sly smile, “I couldn’t just buy you flowers and chocolate, right? You _did_ tell me not to bother with gifts at the first Winter Festival.” His smile soon gave way to another uneasy frown. “So…what do you say? I mean, I kind of just poured my heart out to you…”

Her head dipped down to the ground as she considered his question. She knew what she’d come up there intending to say – and before she could say it, her heart ached too much to let her speak. With that in mind, along with how furious she’d become when Mist and Lissa insinuated they didn’t belong together or how angry she got when people interrupted the two of them, she’d have to be a fool to deny to herself what she felt:

She loved Kiran.

And now that she’d admitted that fact and had it reciprocated in kind, there was no more reason to hold herself back.

“I think,” she began pulling off her gloves, “that congratulations are in order. If you were devising a strategy to win my heart,” she pulled her head back up, her face wearing its first genuinely happy smile in years, “then you’ve executed it perfectly.” Her now bare hands rested on his still gloved ones. Kiran, his own lips quickly widening into a beaming grin, understood what she was doing and took his own gloves off in turn.

Now, with both of their hands free of restrictive cloth, they instinctively wrapped their hands together, their fingers coiling around one another. While they had sometimes made contact with each other during spars, Ayra’s long gloves and Kiran’s baggy coat ensured their skin never touched before now.

“…I know very little about this.” Ayra confessed. “Being in a relationship, I mean. I’ve seen men and women get together, but I’ve no experience with it myself.”

Kiran lightly chuckled at her admission, his warm gaze never breaking from hers. “Well, I never had a girlfriend back home, so this is all new for me too.” He gently squeezed her hands. “We’ll learn all about it together. No outside standards, no stupid norms – we can just figure things out at our own pace.”

She returned his tender hand squeeze with one of her own. “I’d like that.” She did at least know that many couples hugged and kissed to convey their affections, but she was still quite a bit stiff in that regard. The last person she’d hugged in ages was Shannan, and he was her nephew – a familial hug was rather different from a romantic one. For now, just winding their hands together was enough for her.

“Though, in regards to those rumors,” Kiran began, looking more serious once more, “do you want us to make an official announcement or something? I don’t care what anyone thinks, but if you’d rather people not know, I’m fine with keeping quiet.”

Surprisingly, she had to pause to contemplate her answer. In the past, she’d have immediately advocated saying nothing. She knew very well that a public declaration would see her swamped by heroes eager to offer congratulations and hear how they’d fallen for each other. Ordinarily, she’d have done everything in her power to avoid having to go through that. But if nobody knew they were an item…

_“Plus, there’s a lot of people who look up to and admire Kiran – if he wanted to be with someone, there are bound to be other options.”_

Her eyes darkened as Mist’s words resounded through her mind. She knew she wasn’t popular – if people thought she was still without a partner, she wouldn’t exactly have to fend off a line of suitors. Kiran, on the other hand, was held in very high regard. It hadn’t happened yet that she knew of, but he was bound to be the recipient of someone else’s affections sooner or later, especially when the Day of Devotion next came around. She had full confidence that he’d reject them for her, of course, but that didn’t mean she didn’t start to see red at the thought of another woman making a move on _her_ lover. Making their relationship public would make it unambiguous that Kiran was _hers_ , and hers alone. The looks on Lissa and Mist’s faces would just be the icing on the cake.

“Let’s tell them.” She finally answered. “It’ll be aggravating to put up with all of their reactions, but I’d rather endure that than let anyone think they have a chance with you.”

Her reasoning earned her a reassuring grin from Kiran. “Don’t worry. We’ll make sure everyone knows that we’re meant each other.” She returned his smile with a content one of her own. Their hands ceased their directionless mingling and locked together, fingers intertwining. Ayra had never had someone special like this before and never expected to get one. Now that she did, she only knew one thing for certain:

She would go to any lengths and stop at _nothing_ to keep Kiran by her side for the rest of their lives.

* * *

Being in love was a rather novel feeling; at first, Ayra had thought it nothing but a boon. When they declared their relationship to the Order, it was hard to beat the feeling of smug pride that washed over her when she saw all the shocked faces. Not everyone was caught flat-footed – Elise was the first to offer congratulations and did so almost immediately (though not without an exclamation beforehand about figuring it out), with Sharena not far behind. Ayra gratefully accepted the Nohrian’s well wishes, appreciative that she’d gone to the trouble of defending the Isaachian in her gossip circle.

Soon, countless heroes were lining up to offer words of encouragement or seek her opinion on a suitable gift to christen the new couple. The whole ordeal was an annoying slog, with the last part being especially so. No matter how many times she curtly answered that she didn’t want anything, some scantily clad dancer or sheltered princess insisted that she think of something. Equally as frustrating was their refusal to accept her given story for how they came to be together – apparently, ‘it just happened’ wasn’t seen as good enough for the rumor mill. A particularly insulting highlight was when Mist tried to smother her disbelief and present her compliments. She must’ve not had much confidence in herself, because she shamefully scampered off the second Ayra shot a furious glare her way. That earned her a few judgmental looks, but she couldn’t have cared less.

Frankly, she envied Kiran, who was almost immediately dragged away by Hector and Bartre to toast pints of ale. Getting ridiculously inebriated wasn’t the wisest way to spend an evening, but it sure beat putting up with a slew of inane inquiries. Then again, the way he clung to her shoulder as she dragged him up to his tower in the late hours of the night made her glad she was sober enough to commit the experience to memory.

The following days were some of the happiest in her life. On paper, nothing had particularly changed; she trained, sparred, taught Kiran and then read in the latter’s office as she always had. The difference was in the little details: she was more driven in her training than ever before, motivated now by a need for the strength to protect her loved one that she’d not felt since escaping Isaach with Shannan. She was no more lenient with Kiran than in the past. If anything, she was even harsher than she had been, but he took it in stride and understood it was her way of trying to convey how much she cared. With Ayra’s nonexistent aptitude for traditional romantics, they were both aware the swings of her sword were the best way she had to communicate her feelings. Which wasn’t to say there weren’t conventional tender moments here and there – when Kiran was mostly reading through paperwork at night, he would often bring it to the couch so they could lean into each other and share a little intimacy.

They must’ve carried on like that, content to love and be loved, for a week before Ayra realized love was a double-edged sword.

She had been ascending Kiran’s tower, eager to spend another quiet evening with her arm locked around his, when another person came down heading the opposite way. Another _woman_ , to be exact. Ayra didn’t recognize her – she was a tomboyish brunette in a green shit with an orange bandanna wrapped around her forehead and a bow slung over her shoulder. The stranger gave her a friendly wave as she passed; thankfully, Ayra managed to wait until she was out of the girl’s line of sight to start glaring a hole into the back of her head. _What_ , exactly, had that tramp been doing alone with her lover?! She was torn between slamming the girl against the wall by her throat and demanding answers or getting them from Kiran himself.

Ultimately, the stranger was spared solely by the fact that Ayra knew Kiran would never be unfaithful to her. That said, she was still livid as she surmounted the last of the stairs and went into the office. Kiran glanced up from his papers before his face broke out into the same exuberant smile he always had when he saw her.

“There you are! I was just starting to feel a little lonely, and then the most perfect woman in all the worlds walked through my door. With timing like that, you ought to–”

“Who was that girl with the bow?” She interrupted his spiel without a hint of warmth in her voice.

“H-huh?” He sputtered, caught off by guard by her cutoff. “You mean Tanya? She’s from Jugdral, same as you. I just summoned her yesterday.”

Well, Ayra sure didn’t know her, which meant she must’ve been from the same era as the adult Seliph and all the other grown up children of her peers. “Tanya…” She rolled the name over her tongue, venom dripping from every syllable. “Why was she up here?”

Kiran raised an eyebrow and slightly leaned back at her hostile tone. “She just wanted to know when and where the archers usually train and who would make for a good competitor to measure her skills against. Yeah, I know Klein is supposed to be in charge of telling new archers that stuff, but she apparently couldn’t find him and was a little unsure of how to speak to a nobleman like him anyway.”

Kiran’s explanation did nothing to quell her burning acrimony. Oh, she was sure that’s what Tanya _said_ she was there for and that Kiran believed her, but she’d learned the hard way that only a fool took a stranger at their word. Who was to say the little wench didn’t have her eye on the summoner and was trying to feel him out? She glanced back at the stairway behind her and grit her teeth at the thought of letting the tomboy just walk away like nothing happened. Maybe she’d ask her to spar later and ‘accidentally’ break her elbow with a well-placed blow…

“Ayra!” The urgency with which Kiran called out to her shook Ayra from her dark machinations, causing her to turn back to him in surprise. “Geez, I must’ve called your name three times before you responded. Are you alright?”

For all she knew, some whore was scheming to try and take him from her, so no, she wasn’t alright. Her cold fury returned in full force, making her eyes narrow into slits and her fists clench tight enough to turn her knuckles white. “I don’t like it when you’re alone with other women.” She informed him, her tone icier than the frozen wastes of Silesse.

He was taken aback by her inimical attitude but quickly recovered and set his face into a challenging frown. “Maybe I don’t like it when you spar with other men.”

Her eyes widened at his counter; she didn’t give off the impression of being more engaged with random sparring partners than him, did she? “T-that’s – I don’t see them as anything but benchmarks to measure my skills! What we do is special, it’s not like I –” She ceased her frantic justifications when she realized Kiran was struggling to stifle laughter.

“Ayra, I’m just kidding.” He waved his hands in a soothing gesture. “Well, mostly kidding. Maybe it does bother me a little bit, but I understand you’re just doing what you have to in order to become as strong as you possibly can. It’s the same on my end – roughly half the Order is made up of women, so as the summoner I don’t really have much of a choice in occasionally having to speak to them one-on-one.”

He walked up and started gently rubbing the exposed skin on her upper arms. “We’ve both got jobs to do if we’re going to win the war, and sometimes that means putting up with unfavorable circumstances. What’s most important is that _we_ know we love each other; when we finally win, nobody else will matter anymore and it’ll be just the two of us. But until then,” he gripped her arms to convey the severity of his next statement, “we just have to deal with it. I know you hate it, but Tanya wasn’t the first hero to privately talk to me and she won’t be the last. There’s nothing to be done but bear through it. Do you understand what I’m getting at?”

Oh, she understood perfectly. She understood that Kiran _didn’t_. Lovable fool that he was, the man was just too naïve and trusting sometimes. She supposed he had to be to recruit as many varied heroes as he had, but that didn’t mean his attitude wouldn’t cause him trouble. Case in point, this nonsense of letting the Order’s women think they were allowed to be with him in any private capacity. Ayra was no fool – she knew that sooner or later, some freshly summoned harlot would get it in her head that she could try and take him from her. Arvis had been kind enough to teach her to only trust most people as far as she could throw them, and it was only a matter of time before that belief was vindicated.

Not that she would ever say as much to Kiran. If her lover was anything, it was sure of his beliefs; that conviction tended to be what drew people to him in the first place. Trying to make him see the brutal truth of the situation would only cause pointless arguments. If he was unwilling or unable to recognize potential dangers to their relationship…then Ayra would just have to take care of them herself. Infuriatingly, Tanya was off limits for now – if anything happened to her so soon after Ayra let her newfound contempt for the girl show, Kiran would instantly connect the dots. She could, of course, convince him it was necessary if she had to, but that would mean time together wasted on heated debate instead of loving affection.

“…I understand.” A little white lie was harmless in the long run, especially when it was for Kiran’s own good. “Though speaking of when it’s just the two of us, what _are_ we going to do once the war ends?”

“Oh, well, I figured we would probably just stay here. Alfonse won’t take too long to become king and I imagine he’d be able to hook us up with some jobs. You can’t exactly go back to Jugdral, and as for my world…” His eyes drooped and he dejectedly tilted away his head. “Let’s just say there’s no evidence of that road opening up any time soon.” He gave a quiet, resigned sigh. “Honestly, even if you and I _could_ go there, it’s not really the kind of world you’d want to live in – there’s no place for warriors like you there anymore.”

“It makes no difference.” She dared to reach out and wrap her arms around his chest in a stiff hug. Now that she understood how many dangers to their love were lurking in the Order, she placed ever greater value on the intimacy they shared, which partly meant pushing the envelope on how she conveyed her feelings. Kiran, apparently surprised to see her take the initiative in furthering their physical affection, stood there stunned for a moment before wrapping his own arms around her. Ayra gently hummed and closed her eyes as she gripped the fabric of his coat in her hands and rested her head on his shoulder. “Like you said, as long as we’re together, nothing else matters.”

_And I’m ready to do whatever it takes to make sure we stay together…_

* * *

Ayra thought she’d been ready. She knew it was coming and had been psyching herself up to deal with it when it happened, but she saw now that nothing could’ve prepared her for actually seeing it unfold.

It happened roughly a week after the incident with Tanya, who had fortunately caught on very quickly not to try anything. Kiran had lost track of time strategizing in his office and as such was running late for dinner that evening, while Ayra herself was already served and seated. The two always ate together, obviously, but with how crowded the dining hall got at rush hour, it became impossible to pick anybody out from the throng of bodies. All she could do was sip from her ceramic mug while she stood from her seat and scanned the room in hopes of getting lucky (not to mention also resisting the urge to lose her cool the second he wasn’t perfectly punctual again).

And then she saw it.

He was standing in line waiting to be served when Prince Marth’s descendent, Princess Lucina, began to strike up a conversation from behind him. That sight alone was enough to tighten Ayra’s grip on her mug, but then she started _smiling_ and _giggling_ while they talked. Kiran, to his credit, maintained a neutral expression as they spoke, in stark contrast to Lucina’s vapid grin. He likely didn’t notice, but Ayra could see how Lucina’s smile was just a little too wide, how her eyes lingered over Kiran’s for just a little too long. There could be no mistaking what all of Lucina’s subtle mannerisms indicated.

Then she patted him on the back, and the mug in Ayra’s hand _shattered_.

Lucina was a dead woman. Ayra didn’t know how, when or where, but she was going to kill that girl if it was the last thing she ever did! Gods, she wanted nothing more than to lunge forward and cleave her head from her shoulders right then and there, but she was just barely cognizant of how poorly that would go in such a crowded room.

“Ugh, what the hell, Ayra?!” Some red cavalier seated near her complained at the drink from her mug splashing on him. “Gods, what’s gotten under your skin this time? You look like you just watched someone kill your family or something!”

She probably did look beyond furious, didn’t she? That wasn’t good – Lucina had many friends, and letting her intentions show would only make it harder for Ayra to dispose of her. Her only saving grace at the moment was the sheer density of people making it impossible to tell what she was specifically scowling at, but it wouldn’t be long before someone noticed Kiran in her general line of sight and put the pieces together.

She was left with no recourse but to storm out of the dining hall back to her training area, where she could at least try to cool her head and start planning away from watchful eyes. She wanted to secure Kiran, but with Lucina still hovering nearby she wouldn’t have been able to get close without snapping and cutting down the little whore right then and there.

Which led to her current situation, slashing at her training dummy in what was proving to be a mostly futile effort to calm down. How could she have been so _stupid_?! How naïve and wide-eyed did she have to be to think that a public declaration of their relationship would be enough to deter anybody? She knew firsthand that overt threats only made your enemies more careful about how they backstabbed you. What kind of childish idiot assumed that would-be homewreckers would only come from newly summoned heroes who didn’t know their place?

 _Not me._ She vowed, performing a horizontal slash that disemboweled an imaginary Lucina. _Not anymore. To think I was gullible enough to believe a broken bone would’ve stopped Tanya! No, there aren’t any half measures for fixing this. Either I kill that bitch or she just licks her wounds and tries again._

She had, for the sake of argument, already entertained thoughts of alternate solutions. Telling Kiran would accomplish nothing, as he’d already proven himself too blind to see when other women were scheming to try and steal him. Lucina herself would obviously deny any attraction to the summoner and would only be put on guard by a direct warning. Nor could she seek anybody else’s help – Lucina, as one of the most beloved heroes in the Order, was almost the total opposite of Ayra when it came to public perception.

Leaving the matter alone was doubtless the worst choice of them all. Try as she might, Kiran would reject Lucina as many times as he needed to. His faithfulness wasn’t the problem. What _would_ be a problem was the way Lucina would surely try ever greater measures to win Kiran over. When he refused to give in to her temptations, she would inevitably attempt to take him by force. He may have improved by leaps and bounds training with Ayra, but loathe as she was to admit it, Lucina was a formidable opponent and would almost certainly be able to overpower him if she put her mind to it. Once she’d done so, she’d be able to have her way with him, stripping him of his honor, dignity, and even his clothes…

 ** _NEVER_** _!_ She swore as both the training dummy and her practice sword splintered into hundreds of pieces from the force of her blow. _I’ll **never** let that happen! Kiran is **mine**! **MINE**! I’ll kill everybody in the whole damned Order before I let anyone take him from me!_

Which only left her with the matter of how to do it. While she’d love nothing more than to walk up and best the girl in a duel before taking her life, that wasn’t really an option. Calling it a ‘murder’ left a bad taste in her mouth, as it implied she wasn’t fully justified gutting Lucina like a fish, but the fact remained that a murder was how the others would see it. She needed to be discrete, which meant killing her away from the castle. Even if she knew how to set up a trap within the castle proper, it would be all too easy for someone else to spring it or for one of the Order’s spies to catch her in the act.

So she needed to be able to catch Lucina out away from the castle, and the only way to do that was to be on a mission with her. It wouldn’t be as simple as asking to go out on patrol with her – if she specifically requested to work with Lucina and then she turned up dead, all suspicion would immediately fall on her. Especially since the Order had yet to suffer a single fatality yet; whoever first died, their death would be subject to intense scrutiny. Infuriating as it was, it seemed her only chance was to keep her ears open and wait for a chance to join a patrol she knew Lucina would be a part of. From there, it ought to be easy to cut her down and make it look like a lucky shot from some random Emblian.

All she could really do was increase the number of spars she had with the Ylisseans Lucina was closest to and hope one of them would let something slip. If nothing else, she likely had a decent bit of time to spare – Lucina at least seemed patient and thus wouldn’t be hasty in either an initial confession or any drastic measures once that was shot down.

Ayra just needed to mimic that patience and bide her time. An opportunity would present itself eventually. When it did, there would be nothing between the tip of her blade and Lucina’s heart.

* * *

Fate quickly proved to be on her side. How ironic, considering Lucina and her simpleton of a father were always preaching about how they could challenge what fate had in store for them. Judging by how it only took three days for her to hear Maribelle idly reveal that Lucina had asked to go on the next patrol to the outlying ruins, Ayra thought destiny seemed rather in a rush to be rid of Lucina.

Becoming attached to the patrol was a trivial matter. A few words to Kiran about how she hadn’t faced a real battle in a while and wished for more experience fighting in collapsed architecture were all it took for him to add her to the roster without a second thought. The patrol itself was a minor enough affair that Kiran wouldn’t personally bother with overseeing its execution, nor would any other tacticians, ensuring she didn’t have to worry about a flawless strategy covering any holes in Lucina’s guard. Her only potential obstacles were the other members of the patrol: a mage boy named Ewan, an armored princess named Sheena and an effeminate priest named Lucius. She had no particular enmity for any of them (and wouldn’t if Sheena knew what was good for her and stayed away from Kiran), but if they got in her way, she was prepared to do whatever was necessary.

The actual trip to the ruins they were supposed to clear out ended up being the worst part, if only because Lucina wouldn’t shut her mouth and kept making small talk with the group. It was bad enough Ayra had to walk by the girl for several hours without slitting her throat, but listening to her sickeningly saccharine voice was making it genuinely difficult to keep her sword in its sheathe. Mercifully, Ayra’s anti-social reputation meant Lucina never tried speaking to her directly, which was probably the only thing that kept her wrath in check.

A couple of sanity grating hours later, they arrived at their destination: the largely collapsed edifice of an ancient fort that a handful of Emblian survivors from the most recent battle were suspected of hiding out in. While the crouched behind nearby shrubbery to hide their presence, Sheena produced the most recent layout of the fort Askr had on record, which had been given to them to help plan their attack once they saw the state it was in.

A quick glance between the blueprint and the real thing revealed exactly what Ayra had been hoping for: while much of the structure had long since fallen apart, the central wall which divided the barracks and the courtyard was still intact, effectively splitting the ruins into two halves. She was thankful she’d spent all that time brushing up on her strategy with Kiran, because now she could envision a plan that would isolate her and Lucina while still putting the other three in roles they wouldn’t question the necessity of.

“Sheena, you take Ewan and clear out the barracks on the left.” She ordered, much to their surprise. “The closed space will make his magic more effective and make it harder for them to get around your guard. And you’ll be able to protect him better if something goes wrong. That fallen tower has roughly divided the courtyard in two – Lucina and I can handle that.” She had to resist the urge to spit Lucina’s name or start glowering at the thought of her.

“That seems a most reliable strategy to my eyes.” Lucius concurred. “I think it best if I stay back towards the middle, so as to be able to heal anyone the moment they suffer harm.”

Ayra’s eyes widened by a fraction when she realized the implications of Lucius’ position. _Damn it, he’ll be able to see Lucina from there! I need to convince him to stay by the barracks so he won’t be able to help her before it’s too late._ “No, stay close to Ewan. He’s the one who would need healing fastest if anything went wrong.” For once, her blunt nature was advantageous, as it added an authoritative edge to her words.

“Hey, I don’t need Lucius to babysit me!” The redhead protested. “With Sheena nearby and all I’ve learned from Saleh, nobody’s going to so much as scratch me!”

 _Stubborn brat! Just do what you’re told!_ She’d come too far to let a headstrong child stop her now. “I should hope not. But _if_ something happens, you’ll be the worst equipped to deal with it. Unlike the rest of us fighters, you’ve no armor to absorb blows. And given your age, I doubt you’ve much experience coping with an injury and fighting through pain. We can deal with getting hit – you can’t.”

Ewan looked like he wanted to keep arguing, but Lucina of all people cut him off. “I think Ayra makes a good point. She and I know how to handle ourselves if things get rough, but I don’t believe you’ve been in very many real fights, Ewan. It’s good to keep a healer nearby for your first few battles just in case worse comes to worst.” Ayra had to stifle a bark of laughter – the poor fool was signing her own death warrant and didn’t even know it. Well, so much the better for her.

“Alright, I get it.” Ewan reluctantly acceded. “So, Sheena, Lucius and I handle the barracks on the left while you and Ayra clear out the courtyard on the right?”

“That would seem to be the plan.” Sheena confirmed before turning to both sword wielding women. “Stay safe, you two. Keep a sharp eye and a stalwart heart.”

“The same goes for you three.” Lucina reciprocated with that same nauseating smile she flashed at Kiran. With swift nods, they departed to prepare their attack from the appropriate position, leaving the princesses alone. “Well, I suppose we’d best ready ourselves too, right?”

“…Indeed.” She answered without a hint of emotion in her voice. Gods, she was _so close_ to seeing Lucina dead at her feet, she could hardly contain herself. It was just like when she faced down Cimbaeth after Sigurd rescued Shannan for her – the anticipation of killing someone who’d personally wronged her sent shivers down her spine.

Their own preparations took only a handful of minutes. A quick scan around the ruins revealed about seven Emblians in the courtyard: three in the half closer to them and four in the half further away. “I’ll take the ones on this end.” Ayra declared, hoping to convince Lucina to put herself further away from any potential help. “I’ll cut them all down and ensure none slip away to attack Lucius and Ewan from behind.”

“That’s a keen assessment.” Lucina praised, as if honeyed words would absolve her of her crimes. “It would indeed be best to make sure we let no trouble befall our allies. I’d ask you to make haste and assist, but I doubt there’ll be anyone left to fight by the time you catch up to me.” Her boast was punctuated by a challenging grin that devolved into awkward laughter when Ayra offered no form of response. “Well, uh, let’s be on with it, shall we?” Her answer was the drawing of her sword, which Lucina quickly mimicked. A few moments later, they heard the first confused scream from the barracks, prompting the two of them to rush into the fray.

As planned, they split up immediately, leaving Ayra to slay common Emblians that were barely worth her time. Honestly, when one trained by sparring with the likes of Hector and Navarre, most opponents faced in genuine life or death battles just felt like a joke. Still, Lucina was just as adept at cutting the Emblian chaff, which meant Ayra couldn’t afford to play around. She was working on borrowed time – ideally, she’d have taken her time ripping Lucina apart to make her pay for her transgression before finally killing her, but the fact of the matter was the others could clear out the barracks at any moment and ruin her opportunity.

She killed her three targets in what was likely record time before peeking over the mossy stones to see Lucina still dealing with two opponents. _Perfect_. She thought as she pulled a nicked blade from the grasp of her freshest corpse. If she was going to pin Lucina’s untimely death on Embla, it only made sense to use an Emblian weapon to do the deed. Besides, her own sword was a masterpiece of Isaachian craftsmanship; why should she taint its noble steel with Lucina’s filthy blood?

As stealthily as possible, she crept over the fallen masonry towards Lucina’s exposed back. The two Emblians she was fighting saw her approach and doubled their efforts, hoping not to have to face two heroes at once, but that only convinced Lucina to stop messing around and finish the job. She was so focused on doing so that she failed to notice what had even set her foes off in the first place, leaving her with a false sense of security as she severed the spine of her fourth and final adversary.

At long last, it was time for Lucina to pay for trying to come between her and Kiran.

Logically, Ayra knew she should just thrust straight through Lucina’s heart and be done with it. That would be an instantly fatal blow and leave no time for the others to catch her in the act. But on the other hand…the blow would be instantly fatal. Lucina wouldn’t feel a thing. After what she’d done, a quick and painless death wasn’t good enough. After all, she’d left Cimbaeth twitching on the ground with his organs pooling around him, and she wasn’t about to completely throw away her standards for retribution. Any alternatives would definitely cost time…but Ayra couldn’t live with herself if she let Lucina off easy; it was a risk, but one she was willing to take. If she just angled her strike a little to the bottom right, she would still deliver a lethal wound, but one that would see Lucina gasping and choking on her own blood. _Yes, that will do nicely…_ she decided as she aimed her borrowed sword at Lucina’s unsuspecting back.

Really, it was laughable how easily her weapon slid through her target’s skin like a knife through paper.

Lucina, to her credit, did respond to the pain by attempting to swing her Falchion at her sudden assailant, but Ayra stopped that feeble attack by reaching out to grip her wrist mid-swing. Then she dared to look back, and the sheer shock and dismay in her branded eye gave Ayra a rush of satisfaction like nothing else. There really was nothing quite like exacting revenge on an insufferable wretch who’d been utterly convinced they’d never have the tables turned on them.

“Let me make this clear, since you didn’t seem to understand the first time.” She hissed in her quarry’s ear. “Kiran is _mine_.” She punctuated her claim by grabbing a fistful of blue hair and throwing Lucina to the ground, the Emblian sword still lodged in her chest. Just as hoped, blood began to pool both from the wound and her mouth. While Lucina grappled in vain with the blade protruding from her body, Ayra walked away to drag an Emblian corpse over to use as the central prop in the story she’d feed to the rest of the patrol. Said Emblian had died from a stab wound whose direction of attack was impossible to determine, meaning Ayra could easily claim to have stabbed him in the back when she saw him do the same to Lucina.

Speaking of, the Ylissean seemed to have given up removing the blade in her chest and was now weakly reaching out to Ayra with a pleading look in her eyes. Honestly, that was just insulting, beseeching help from the woman whose lover she’d tried to steal. Ayra wanted to snap every bone in that begging hand under her boot, but staved off for the sake of maintaining the story.

Looking at Lucina, with blood dribbling down her chin as her cries for help manifested only as pitiful gasps for air, Ayra couldn’t help but feel something was missing. It was certainly a pathetic and humiliating end, but she couldn’t deny feeling a little let down, especially in contrast to how she’d made Cimbaeth suffer at the end. Lucina deserved a more painful death, but Ayra couldn’t risk doing anything more without drawing suspicion. But then how…

 _Ah, of course._ She realized with a triumphant grin. _How could I forget? It’s not enough to break a person’s body – sometimes it helps to break their spirit as well._ She’d have to remember to thank Arvis if he ever got summoned, at least before she or someone else from Sigurd’s army killed him for betraying them. By showing off Deirdre’s treachery at the Belhalla ambush, he destroyed Sigurd’s will before striking him down. It was the same principle here: if Ayra couldn’t rend Lucina’s flesh any further, she’d have to settle for crushing her soul.

“Let me see if I can remember…” She kneeled down and looked Lucina in her rapidly fading eyes with mocking nonchalance. “You travelled back in time to prevent some world ending cataclysm, right? And without you there to guide your parents in the past, the same apocalyptic future you were trying to stop will happen all over again, correct?” Despite being on death’s door, Lucina’s eyes still managed to widen ever so slightly in numb horror when she realized what Ayra was implying.

“That’s right, Lucina.” She taunted with a small grin of faux compassion. “You’re about to die – and everything you’ve ever fought for is about to be for nothing.” Her last dying gasps became increasingly frantic and she mustered the strength to desperately reach her hand up in one last futile gesture. _Now, to finish her._ “Your family, kingdom and world will be destroyed…and all because of your failure.” Ayra watched with smug satisfaction as Lucina’s eyes produced a few final tears and her last breath came out as a distraught whine before her hand fell limp to the ground and the light left her eyes.

 _That_ was a proper way to exact revenge. Ayra felt happier already, knowing she could go back to embracing Kiran without having to worry about Lucina’s machinations. As stressful as it was to have mortal enemies, the satisfaction of finally killing them made it all worthwhile. As a final check, she pressed two fingers against Lucina’s neck. When she felt no pulse, she wrapped the hand of her chosen Emblian corpse around the hilt of the sword stuck in Lucina. Now, she just had to put all those childhood lessons on acting for the sake of the courts to good use.

“ _Lucius!_ ” She cried out with the most authentic urgency she could muster. “Lucius, get over here _now_! Lucina’s been stabbed!” She kneeled to the ground and cradled Lucina’s corpse in her hands to make it look like she was trying to examine the extent of her injuries. It wasn’t long before she heard the trampling of three pairs of feet making their way around the corner.

“By the Gods!” The priest gasped in shock, Sheena and Ewan not far behind him. “Please, let me not be too late!” He rushed to Ayra with surprising swiftness despite his long robes.

“I just finished my portion of the courtyard when I saw that scum attack her.” Ayra gestured to the body she’d placed. “I ran him through in kind, but I was too slow to protect Lucina.”

Ewan and Sheena could only stare in stunned shock as Lucius frantically removed the sword from Lucina’s chest and began trying to use his staff the mend the damage. “No way…” The mage uttered. “She’s going to be okay, right Lucius? S-she’s not going to die just like that, r-right?”

The blonde’s answer was to drop his staff and slump his head. “Lucius, say something!” Ayra demanded for the sake of her ruse. “How quickly do we need to get her back to the castle so the rest of the healers can save her?” When his only response was to begin feebly shaking his head, Ayra had to stop the gratification she felt from showing on her face.

“This can’t be…” Sheena whispered. “Of all people, why Lucina…? How?”

“This is all my fault…” Lucius muttered. “Had I only hastened here the second we were finished in the barracks, I could have saved her life. My sloth has cost us the life of a dear friend and comrade.”

“If there is any blame to assign, I alone should bear it.” Ayra declared, fully aware of the irony at play. “We followed my plan and I’m the one who told you to stick with Ewan. Thus, I’m the one who’s liable for this horrid turn of events.” Truth be told, ‘horrid’ wasn’t really the right word; she thought ‘splendid’ was much more fitting.

“You got that right!” Ewan affirmed, his cheeks wet with fresh streaks of tears. “I told you I didn’t need Lucius hanging around me! If he’d stayed in the middle like he wanted, Lucina would still be alive! This _is_ all your fault, you…you murderer!”

 _Oh, if only you knew…_ She mentally mused. That was one way to vindicate her belief that everybody else would see her rightly extracting vengeance as murder. She could only imagine the look on his face if he knew the truth.

“That’s enough, all of you!” Sheena shouted with a slam of her tower shield. “What’s happened here is a tragedy, not a competition to find the guiltiest soul. Lucina is dead because a cowardly Emblian backstabbed her, not because her comrades in arms tried to formulate a plan that would protect the most vulnerable of their number. She was an honorable, compassionate woman, and she’d be ashamed to see us bickering and fingering blame at each other. The guilty party is dead by Ayra’s hand and so justice has been served. That’s all there is to say on the matter.”

Well, Sheena got one part right: justice had indeed been served, even if not in quite the way she thought it had. The pink princess’s speech sucked any fight out of Ewan, leaving the group in a feeling of subdued emptiness. “So…what happens now?” The boy questioned, his voice devoid of all emotion.

“We return Lucina to her friends and family and lay her to rest in a manner befitting of one so gallant and beloved.” Lucius informed him, standing back up with his staff in his hands once more. “I would carry her, but I’m afraid I’ve not the strength for it. Princess Sheena, would you be so kind?”

“Of course. Princess Ayra, could you hold my axe for me?”

“Sure.” Lugging around Sheena’s massive axe wasn’t particularly enjoyable, but it was at least better than having to hold onto Lucina’s corpse. The Gra princess brushed her hand over Lucina’s half-lidded eyes, shutting them forever. Now that she held the bluenette in her arms, even Sheena’s eyes grew misty. The surviving members of the patrol began their slow march back to the castle, their spirits defeated and their hearts aching.

All except Ayra, who brought up the rear with a pleased grin.

* * *

To say the Order had been devastated by Lucina’s death would be a gross understatement. Ayra had been right on the mark when she assessed that the princess was adored by nearly every hero, and most were now torn between depressed grief and righteous fury. A few Ylisseans in particular weren’t sure whether they should blame Ayra for her death or thank her for ‘disposing’ of Lucina’s killer. But in the end, as usual, she was largely left alone by the rest of the Order.

Kiran took Lucina’s loss rather strangely. She expected him to ramble on about how he should’ve been on the patrol to make a better strategy, but when she delivered the news, he just looked at her with this vacant, troubled stare. A second later he was broken out of his reverie by countless heroes demanding to know how they’d retaliate. For the next few days, she barely ever saw him as he was dragged from meeting to meeting by the likes of Alfonse and Robin.

It wasn’t long before a massive funeral service was held, the attendance of which was unfortunately mandatory. It took a considerable amount of willpower to not roll her eyes at the sight of so many hardened warriors brought to tears by the death of a single comrade. She lost everything short of Shannan at Belhalla, but nobody ever saw her breaking down into hysterical sobs, did they? Countless heroes stepped forward to offer prayers or words of Lucina’s ‘noble character’. The whole experience was downright nauseating in how pathetic it was; Ayra had practically done them all a favor, killing that rat before she could show her true colors. Naturally, she declined to step up herself – she doubted she could say one positive thing about Lucina with a straight face.

When all was said and done, the whole affair left the Order with a renewed sense of purpose. Being reminded of their own mortality and the lengths to which Embla could go reinvigorated many heroes who had largely become complacent. Really, Ayra deserved praise and thanks for doing something that finally kicked their lazier members into shape, but she knew better than to say as much, even with the accepted cover story.

Perhaps the funniest detail of all was the fact that her intentionally crueler choice of wound was taken as proof that the damage was inflicted by a delirious Emblian not thinking clearly. Soren, being the paranoid twit that he was, had brought up the possibility of foul play, but the likes of Kaze and Jaffar ruled that a treacherous assassination would’ve struck directly through the heart to kill as quickly as possible. They reasoned that a traitor would never risk a wound that wasn’t instantly fatal and provided the slimmest chance of discovery. She supposed that, on some level, they were right: Ayra was no traitor, as she’d only been doing what was necessary to protect Kiran.

On the subject of her lover, Ayra was growing increasingly exasperated by the endless meetings he was stuck in. Thankfully, once the funeral passed, so too did the initial intense burst of activity heralded by Lucina’s death. It took a few more days, but she was finally able to catch Kiran alone in his office once again.

“Are you doing okay?” She asked the moment she got a good look at how drained he was. There were deep bags under his mildly bloodshot eyes, and he slumped forward on his desk instead of sitting upright. “I know it’s important, but you shouldn’t let yourself dragged through non-stop strategy sessions. You haven’t forgotten what happens when you’re all work and no play, have you?” Her inquiry was delivered with a teasing grin that quickly morphed into a concerned frown when he barely reacted. She walked around his desk and slowly wrapped her arms around him, hoping the hug would help his mood.

“Has Lucina’s death really hit you that hard?” She questioned, trying her best to keep any frustration out of her voice. The girl was dead and gone; she shouldn’t have been able to keep meddling in their relationship from beyond the grave.

“…It’s not just that.” He finally answered, his voice quiet and afraid. “It hurts for me to see her gone as much as it does anybody else, but there’s more to it than that. I…I just…” He suddenly gripped Ayra in his arms, hugging her far more tightly than she had held him.

“What if it had been you?!” His plea was followed up by a distressed sob, the tears of which she could feel against her cheek. “What if _you’d_ been the one to get killed while your back was turned?! If you’d swapped places with Lucina…if you’d been standing in her shoes…I could’ve lost you!”

Ayra’s eyes shamefully lowered to the floor. How could she have made Kiran worry like that? More than that, she should’ve realized immediately what was troubling him and moved to assuage his fears. _No time like the present._ She thought as she soothingly rubbed her hands along his back. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll never leave you alone, I swear.”

“But how can you know that for sure?” He rebutted pulling his head back to look her in the eyes. “If even Lucina could die like that, how can you be certain some punk won’t get lucky? When I realized how easily it could’ve been you, I couldn’t help but think about what it’d be like to live without you…” A fresh set of tears began rolling down his cheeks. “I can’t lose you, Ayra! I don’t know what I’d do with you gone! I don’t know–”

Whatever he was going to say, she silenced him by pressing her lips against his. The kiss lasted only a second, barely long enough to taste the salt from his tears, but it was more than enough to leave Kiran staring at her in speechless awe. “You’ll never have to find out.” She assured him with a soft stroke of his cheek. “We’ll _always_ be together, no matter what happens. I understand that you’re scared…but I have something Lucina didn’t pushing me to make sure I never die.” Her lips curled up into a tender smile. “My love for you.”

This time it was Kiran who wordlessly lunged forward to capture her mouth. This kiss was somewhat less chaste than the first, lasting several seconds before he pulled away. “I love you too. So, _so_ much…” He resumed his tight hug, their heads once more resting on each other’s shoulders. “I swear to never leave you alone either. Come hell or highwater, nothing is ever going to come between us.”

“That’s right. I’ll personally make sure of it.” Wrapped in each other’s warm embrace like that, Ayra lost track of time. Moments like this were what made life worth living, and when the war finally ended, their days would be filled with nothing but such moments. Someday, they’d live together, start a family, and never have to put up with interlopers ever again. But until that time came, Ayra would have her work cut out for her getting rid of any harlots who sought to undo what she and Kiran shared. It would be a thankless, difficult job, but it would all be worth it for times like this. She had no doubt she needed to get to work planning how to kill off the next one who reared their head…

After all, didn’t Mist say Kiran had plenty of admirers?


	2. Catria - Attack Type

* * *

_Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned_

_Nor Hell a fury like a woman scorned_

* * *

Catria was already intimately familiar with the matters of the heart.

She was well acquainted with both the soaring bliss of standing side by side with someone she dearly loved and the crushing devastation of watching them happily envelop another woman in their arms. She knew well the pain of standing to the side, alone, as others were blessed with love’s warm embrace, be they the man for whom she harbored feelings or her own sister. It almost came as some form of dark blessing when Est disappeared across the ocean and provided Catria with ample excuse to follow in her footsteps and leave Archanea behind. After suffering such heartbreak once, Catria had felt that for her, love was perhaps a fool’s errand not worth the misery it brought.

As such, she was somewhat disconcerted to be feeling the same rapid thumping in her chest and heat in her cheeks for a new man.

The Summoner who’d brought her to Askr wasn’t the kind of person she’d have ever imagined stirring a new flame in her heart. At a glance, Kiran had neither the gallantry nor the nobility of Marth. He was a rather plain-spoken man whose character matched little with the loftiness of his station. Initially, she found it difficult to reconcile the grand position and the common man who filled it. After serving under both Marth and Celica (who, despite their attempts at connecting with the commoners in their forces, always had some intangible grandeur about them), she was caught off guard by how direct and grounded Kiran was.

One incident in particular during her first week in the Order really put into perspective how different her new leader was. She’d been doing drills with the other pegasus knights when she noticed one particular trio had strayed from the sequence to do improvised loops around each other. She may not have minded much, except that said loops were completely lacking in any tactical advantage whatsoever. If they did maneuvers like that in a real battle, they’d suffer a lance to the stomach in no time! The commander in charge, a matronly pegasus knight from Tellius named Sigrun, put them back on track with a gentle chiding, but it was obvious from their sheepish giggles after the fact that they barely took the reprimand to heart.

Honestly, it was a routine straight out of her trainee days with Palla and Est. The latter, spoiled as she was, would get it in her head to start goofing off during training, and the former would indulge her by punishing her with nothing more than a light scolding. In those times, Catria would pull Est aside and try to ensure the lesson stuck a little harder by chewing her out with far more severity and perhaps even saddling her with a chore or two if she had the means to do so. Est could cry all she wanted that Catria was too strict and serious-minded, but she refused to let her little sister develop the kind of bad habits that would kill her if she wasn’t careful.

Unfortunately, she was in no position to be scolding anyone now that she was the freshest face to the Order’s pegasus knight corps. She couldn’t exactly drag away some foreign princess she barely knew to chew them out. That said, her gut still told her the matter needed to be addressed, so she did the next best thing: go to someone who _could_ chew them out. Which led to her relaying the events to a Kiran she still knew next to nothing about. She figured Marth would’ve reacted with a quiet sigh of mild exasperation and Celica a playful shake of the head. Both would’ve dealt with the problem, but also told her that she was worrying too much and needed to loosen up a bit. Given her past experiences, she expected more of the same from him.

Needless to say, she was more than a little surprised to see him scoff and angrily roll his eyes. “Are you serious? Tana, Cynthia and Shanna are _still_ pulling that crap? For the love of…” He pinched the bridge of his nose and clenched his eyes shut, “Well, if _that’s_ how they’re going to be, they can have fun shoveling dung out of the entire stables for a week.”

Catria stared with wide eyes at his reaction and took a moment to find her voice, “…I take it they’ve done this before?”

“Believe it or not, this’ll have been the third time.” He revealed with no small amount of annoyance. “The first time, we were still getting used to the new training schedule and I could understand some slacking in the adjustment period. The second time, I warned them there’d be trouble if they kept trying to goof off when they should’ve been training. And now, here we are on strike number three.”

Well, this was a pleasant change of pace from the indulgence she was used to seeing such behavior receive; Palla tended to get stuck on strike two and never follow through on any warnings. “Lady Sigrun believed a light scolding was all that was needed…” She informed him, largely out of a curiosity about how he’d perceive the judgement, though she made sure to add an undercurrent of disappointment to her words to make sure he understood she didn’t approve.

He irritably shook his head and rose to his feet from behind is desk. “And I’m going to tell her to stop letting that nonsense fly. Those airheads don’t want to spend their time practicing? Fine by me – they can at least be productive and get some work done in the stables.” He waved off his frustration and gave her an approving look. “I was starting to wonder if I was the only one taking all this seriously. It’s good to know _someone_ else around here cares about running a tight ship. Keep up the good work, Catria.”

Receiving his praise had been the most unexpected part of the whole affair. Palla and Est were the talented ones who tended to garner acclaim. Even in regards to their personalities, her elder sister’s cool maturity and her younger’s sprightly optimism were what people usually remembered and adored about the Whitewings. Catria had always felt that she was just sort of…there and not worth much in the way of accolades. To meet and serve one who felt differently was an unfamiliar, but by no means unwelcome change of pace.

“Thank you for your confidence, milord.” She expressed her gratitude with a proud smile. “I swear to make sure it isn’t misplaced.”

“Please, just call me Kiran.” He requested with a tired grin of his own. “I can’t stand all the ceremony and titles people insist on using. I’d much rather do without the formalities, if it’s alright with you.”

There was one similarity between him and her former commanders. Yet, there was something different about Kiran making the request as opposed to Marth or Celica. When the prince or priestess asked her not to stand on ceremony, it felt as though they did so more because they thought a war was neither the time nor the place for such things rather than out of a total dissatisfaction with such proceedings. Kiran, on the other hand, gave the impression of being completely unaccustomed to the prestige to begin with (which, in hindsight, was how Celica should’ve reacted too, no?). His disposition was certainly at odds with any notion of a noble upbringing – never mind his blunt manner of speaking, the casual slouch he always carried himself with was clearly lacking any kind of refined grace.

That juxtaposition in character may not have been what first got her heart racing…but it did have the effect of making him more approachable in her eyes. The Askrans called him a ‘Great Hero’, but any amount of personal conversation with the man made it obvious he couldn’t have cared less for the status. For Catria, who had always been unsure and nervous of how to act around her social betters, the realization that her new commander was as down-to-earth as her was a most pleasant one.

“Well, if that’s what you’d prefer, I have no objections, Kiran.”

“Great!” He beamed at her and clapped his hands together. “Now, let’s go put those numbskulls in their places. The sooner they realize you and I are on the same page, the sooner you can give them what for without having to run around the castle looking for me. Not to mention any other pegasus knights who may be drifting off task from time to time, if you don’t mind keeping an eye out.”

“Not at all, Kiran.” She followed him out his office with a pleased expression. Initially, she’d been sent reeling by her sudden appearance in Askr so soon after travelling to Valentia and had been struggling to find her footing. But in appointing her to watch for errant knights the way she had in her youth, Kiran had just given her some much-needed stability. Having a concrete task instead of aimlessly training and hoping bonds would form with total strangers would do wonders for her mood.

And the fact that she’d have to personally report everything she saw to Kiran certainly didn’t hurt, did it?

* * *

Her feelings for the Summoner didn’t sprout up overnight. She spent practically a full month making reports, following him into battle, eating together when the timing was convenient and other such events before one day finding herself lingering on his smile with a faint flush growing on her face.

He’d just complimented her on her professionalism and reliability outside the castle gates after returning from a patrol that had gone a bit south, and something caused her to drink in the praise far more readily than usual. Come to think of it, had she been acting that way for a while and just not fully noticed until then? She _had_ been feeling hot under the collar around him lately, despite the fact they were in the middle of Autumn. Either way, she realized her heart was thumping rather hard in her chest for what was by all appearances a fairly standard commendation.

“Catria?” His pleasant smile dipped to a frown when she did nothing but stand there gaping at him. “You alright?”

“O-oh, yes, fine!” She stammered, embarrassed at her behavior. What was she doing, swooning from run-of-the-mill appreciation? The little voice in her head that reminded her it hadn’t been run-of-the-mill until she started serving Kiran was promptly ignored as she recomposed herself. “My apologies, I think I’m just a tad out of sorts from that battle.”

He sighed and shook his head. “Aren’t we all? There’s nothing worse than having the tables turned out of nowhere like that. Why the hell were there two swordmasters of all things in what was supposed to be a light outpost? Still,” he flashed that delightful smile at her once again, “at least we had you there to clean house. Thanks again for always being the one to keep a cool head, Catria.”

Again, she caught her heart beat a little faster at his words. He’d begun walking away into the castle proper when she suddenly heard herself calling out to him. “Would you like to have lunch together? I-I mean, the time of day is rather appropriate and I imagine some food will do you good before making your report to Commander Anna.” Oh Gods, what was wrong with her? She had all the tact and grace of a novice flier!

…Wait, why was she suddenly overanalyzing the way she’d asked Kiran to lunch? And what had possessed her to do so in the first place?! She was so absorbed in her thoughts she almost missed how Kiran sympathetically ducked his head. “Well, I was going to stop by Eirika and Ephraim first to give them my thoughts on something they brought up a couple days ago, so…” He must’ve sensed her personal discomfort and was being considerate enough to offer her a chance to back out.

 _In for a penny, in for a pound…_ she thought, deciding she might as well go all the way now that she’d gone to the trouble of asking. “Oh, that’s no trouble whatsoever. I don’t mind a little detour.”

“In that case, I guess it’ll be alright.” His decision was delivered with a smile that she could’ve sworn looked somewhat strained (which she figured was to be expected, given the strenuous circumstances they were still winding down from), but she barely paid any attention to it in the face of her relief at his acceptance. She’d never been so bold as to outright request a meal with him – any prior mutual dining had been a matter of convenience while they had business to discuss – but she couldn’t deny the pleasant feeling of having done so.

There was, of course, still the matter of _why_ she’d made the request, but she decided it could wait until after they were done. She followed him on his minor errand, which took them to one of the training halls. Princess Eirika was waiting where Kiran expected her to be, though Prince Ephraim was absent. That was hardly unusual – from what she knew, the man spent most of his time looking for ever more skilled foes to test his mettle against, so he was probably off engaged in some intense spar.

She waited patiently by the entrance out of earshot while Kiran and Eirika conducted their business, though she thought it took them a rather long while to get started. Eirika spared her a curious (and almost…disappointed?) glance that Kiran quickly explained away. They spoke at length about who knew what until settling the affair with unusually stiff nods. They looked almost ready to shake hands before Eirika retracted her hand with a nervous smile and what might’ve been a final peek at Catria.

In any case, she and Kiran were soon on their way to the dining hall. Now that they were alone, Catria had no idea what to do with herself. She should’ve been making conversation, right? But about what? Kiran seemed unusually dower after leaving Eirika, so whatever they discussed must’ve been of a heavy subject matter. She ought to have brought some levity to the mood, but that was Est’s specialty, not hers. Would she have been better off making a joke or inquiring into what was troubling him?

Her deliberation reached its end when Kiran reached out before she could. “Are you _sure_ you’re doing okay? I know you’ve never been much of a conversationalist, but it feels like you’ve got something on your mind.” That was just wonderful – she was wasting so much time ruminating on what to do that Kiran beat her to the punch. This must’ve been what Palla meant when she always said Catria needed to more readily speak her mind.

“Please, worry not that I’ve something distressing in my life. It’s just that, well, I…” She sighed and ashamedly averted her eyes. “I wanted to ask you if you had something troubling you or maybe say something to lighten the mood, but I couldn’t find the words to do it. I spent so long twiddling my thumbs that _you_ ended up being the one trying to console _me_. I must make for a poor friend if I can’t even manage a small measure of verbal comfort, no?”

Kiran gave her a measured look before turning his attention forward. “A few things, Catria. One, I’m always stressing about one thing or another, so don’t let that bother you. Two, I’d have to be the shallowest asshat ever to think you’re a bad friend after everything you’ve done for me just because you took a little while getting your thoughts in order. Three, you’ve always kind of felt like you’ve got your attention on something in the distance, but that isn’t a bad thing – it’s a part of who you are and I’d never hold it against you, so don’t beat yourself up over it.”

…He was too sweet, even if his language was a tad crude. Est had always wanted her to loosen up and Palla always tried to get her more open, but Kiran was the first to tell her she was fine as she was. She knew her sisters loved her dearly, but he was the first to see personality quirks where they saw flaws. Her heart was thumping in her chest again, but she saw no reason to be alarmed about it this time.

“Huh.” She uttered, a small smile tugging at her lips. “So I seem like I’m always staring off in the distance, do I?” A soft giggle escape from her mouth, earning her a confused glance from Kiran. “Well, if that’s how you see it, it’s got to be true, right? It’s little wonder why – my head’s been spinning from all the places I’ve been to in such short time: Archanea to Valentia to Askr…” She wistfully shook her head. “You know, I always wished I could be a bit more carefree, like my sisters. They love travelling and living in the moment, and always tried to get me to feel the same, but here you are saying I’m good the way I am.”

She mustered the courage to look him in the eye. “…Maybe you’re right. Though, even if you don’t see anything wrong with always looking into the distance, I still wouldn’t mind working on it a little. And I know just how to do so: by spending more time with you, developing our…bond.” She could feel the pink burning in her cheeks, but persevered further. “I know that every day I spend with you will help me focus and keep me looking forward. As long as I have you at my side, I feel like I’ll be able to do anything. Even accept that who I am now isn’t all that bad.”

Kiran blinked in surprise, his own face a little red from the sincerity of her words. “T-that’s, um…” He chuckled at his own loss for words and ran a hand through his hair. “I-I’m sorry, I’m not really sure what to say to all that…”

She giggled again when he nervously darted his eyes to the ground; he was kind of cute when he got flustered like that. “You don’t have to say anything.” She assured him. “I’m just glad I got a lot of that off my chest. Thank you for letting me ramble like that.”

“S-sure, no problem.” He smoothed down his ruffled nerves and recomposed himself. “So, you still up for lunch after that, or…?”

Her smile grew ever so slightly, “I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

* * *

Once she had time alone to cool off and actually think, Catria seriously considered whether or not she was making a mistake.

Whether she called it love or something else, she couldn’t deny to herself anymore that she held very deep feelings for Kiran. That way she’d opened up her heart to him and poured out about how she believed he would bring out the best in her wasn’t the kind of thing to do to just a good friend. After all, just thinking about it got her so red even the tips of her ears were burning, to say nothing of how fast her heart was racing. Her first instinct was to replay the scene in her head, this time adding a confession of sorts to the end that he joyfully accepted.

Of course, she’d had that same instinct once before and earned nothing but pain by following it.

She’d been in love once and gotten horribly burned by the flames of passion. When she thought clearly, Catria remembered very well how corrosive the fallout of that pursuit had been to her. Even ignoring Marth and Caeda themselves, a very ugly, very dogged part of her still resented Est for finding happiness with Abel while Catria herself was still alone – to say nothing of the fact that Est _left_ said happiness to do Gods knew what in Valentia. Catria had handled losing Marth, but she was still quite a bit sore over it. With that mind, she was left with a dilemma.

Was she better off stifling her feelings now to avoid more suffering or accepting them and trying to be with Kiran?

Really, it came down to whether or not she was making a false equivalence. When she sat down and was totally honest with herself, she had to admit the truth: she never had a snowball’s chance in hell with Marth, for a couple few reasons. For one, Caeda had stolen his heart for years by the time she’d even met him. Catria had fallen for Marth practically the moment she first started talking to him, but he only had eyes for the Talys princess by then. Nursing a love for him was a fool’s errand driven perhaps solely by the singular, awful chance that Caeda fell in battle. She refused to countenance the idea that any part of her actually _hoped_ the royal bluenette met such a fate, but the possibility of it happening was probably the only thing driving her delusional dream of being with the Altean prince.

Of course, even if Caeda had died, Catria would still have been fighting a hopeless battle. The fact of the matter was that she was of common birth and Marth was royalty. She may have improved her status by leaps and bound by achieving knighthood in Macedon, but there was no denying that Marth was far out of her league. Maybe some of the heroes here had broken the social strata to take a commoner spouse, but Gods only knew what their worlds were like. As far as she knew, nothing of the sort happened in Archanea, and so her love was naught but a pipe dream.

So, if she was destined to failure right from the start with regards to Marth, did the same apply to Kiran? She thought at great length on that question, doing the best she could to remain objective and not let her nascent affection cloud her judgement, and was almost too scared to accept her conclusion.

By all accounts, there was nothing impeding her from attempting to court the Summoner.

The most obvious reason for that was the apparent lack of any Caeda figure in the way. Marth may not have been formally engaged to his sweetheart during the war, but only a blind fool could’ve missed the obvious love and adoration pouring off of them when they spoke to one another. She’d spent a fair amount of time with Kiran since arriving in Askr and never saw him do anything remotely like that with anyone. She began to consider the idea that he had someone and was just keeping the relationship under wraps, but dropped it when she failed to think of a single reason _why_ he would keep it clandestine. That was unless he had opened his heart to the likes of Grima, in which case she was probably better off without him anyway.

Even the matter of his status was a non-issue. He may have been the Summoner and Great Hero, but he also wasn’t from Askr and was the last person who would care about respecting social prestige. Hell, she was almost certain he was a commoner himself given how he spoke and his constant distaste for the stature of his station. He wouldn’t exactly have to fight social norms every step of the way if he reciprocated her affections, which meant her chances were much more realistic.

She believed she had a real possibility of being with Kiran, and that thought both thrilled and terrified her. What if everything worked out and she found a partner with whom she could build a family and spend the rest of her life? She could almost see herself now, guiding their daughters through their first paces on a pegasus while their sons buried themselves in tomes under his instruction…

But then, what if it _didn’t_ work out? What if she dared to hope and open her heart a second time, only to be rejected all over again? She didn’t know if she could go through all that more than once. She’d been hurt so much the first time around she almost didn’t want to think about how she’d take another failure.

She decided the best approach was to nurse her feelings and see how everything played out in the near future. She could, after all, merely be feeling a fleeting infatuation that would fade with time. Kiran could’ve been discretely courting someone and be just about ready to reveal it – if he’d been interested in one of his first heroes, it would just have been about the right time for a courtship to conclude.

Yes, it was best to wait, at least for a little while. That time could be spent strengthening her bond with Kiran if nothing else. There was no harm in helping him develop feelings for her, was there? Perhaps he’d even confess to her…Of course, if he didn’t, she still wouldn’t stall forever. Princess Minerva always stressed that she’d lose every battle she never fought, meaning she’d have to suck it up and take a chance eventually. But she’d do so when she was confident in her chances of success.

When she knew in her heart that he’d accept her love, she’d make her move.

* * *

Well, it didn’t take long to rule out that all she felt was an ephemeral crush. Her feelings only grew stronger with time, to the point it became hard to fight the saccharine smile that tugged at her lips whenever she saw Kiran. Every word he spoke sent a tingle down her spine and a burst of warmth in her chest. She fell absolutely head over heels in love with him, to an even greater extent than she had for Marth.

True to her word, she grew ever more focused as she nursed her bond with Kiran. Every mission, every training maneuver and every battle was conducted with the idea that she had to prove her strength and skill, both to Kiran and to herself. She was determined to be the absolute best she could be, to ensure to herself that she was the cream of the crop.

Independent of her prowess was the change to her disposition. She hardly became lenient in her duties, but numerous heroes remarked to her how much more spirited she seemed to be of late. She accepted their words with the appropriate amount of gratitude, but wondered how accurate their assessments could be when they barely knew her.

When a familiar face was summoned and said much the same, she couldn’t doubt the sincerity of their words. “I mean it, Catria, you’re practically glowing!” Est gushed over her after dinner on her first night. “I mean, yeah, you’re wearing a lot of white and gold, where’d you get that by the way, but it’s more than that. You’ve always been kind of aloof and reserved, but now you feel so lively! There’s just so much…happiness from you, it’s honestly kind of weird.” She realized the potential insult in her words and frantically backpedaled. “Not _bad_ weird or anything! It’s great – no, _you’re_ great and I’m so glad to see you like this!”

Catria giggled into her hand and waved her sister off with a warm grin. “It’s fine, Est, I know what you mean. It’s just that…I’ve finally found something worth being happy about.” Catria considered her words and shook her head. “No, that’s the wrong way to put it. I’ve found some _one_ worth being happy about.”

The sprightly pinkette gasped and covered her mouth with her hands. “Oh, Catria…” With tears in the corner of her eyes, she reached forward to grasp their hands together. “I’m so happy for you! You’re so wonderful and perfect, I just knew you’d find someone! Wait,” she let go and backed up with a shocked look on her face, “what are you doing here? You ought to be with them right now, cuddling on a couch or something! And I ought to be hitting Abel for not telling me you’d gotten yourself a man!”

Catria winced and nervously wrung her hands together. “Well, truth be told, we aren’t together; I haven’t confessed yet.” At her admission, Est’s demeanor immediately morphed into doubt and pity – that same wretched, disgusting pity her sisters showered her with in the aftermath of Marth’s proposal to Caeda. “This isn’t like Marth! It’s _nothing_ like him! He’s available, a-and he _cares_ about me! I know he does, I just…” She ducked her head, unable to bring herself to meet Est’s sight. “I need to be certain. I have to know for sure he’ll accept when I confess.”

She felt Est grab her again, this time at the shoulders instead of her hands. When she dared to look up, she saw sympathy and warmth in her beloved sister’s eyes. “I understand. And I’ll be here if you need anything. Whatever’s made you this happy, I want to make sure it lasts forever. You deserve as much.”

Tears now pricked at the corner of Catria’s eyes. “Oh, Est…” She reached out and enveloped her sister in a tight hug that was immediately reciprocated. How could she have ever been horrible enough to resent someone who cared about her this much? Had her bitterness over rejection really twisted her so?

She failed to mention who, exactly, she was pining over, but it only took a couple days of observation for Est to pick up on it and take it upon herself to do whatever she could to give Catria time with Kiran. A report she was “too busy” to deliver, an “urgent message” from Abel that Kiran needed to hear right away – whatever it was, Catria thanked her for the opportunities.

In no time at all, fortune smiled upon her and delivered Palla and Princess Minerva to Askr as well. They were much the same as Est, offering delight over her mood (“Your heart is practically singing, Catria!” and “I am overjoyed to see you in such high spirits, Catria.”), absolute jubilation at its cause (“This is the greatest news I’ve heard since the war ended!” and “I can think of no one more worthy of such happiness than you.”), dismay and misgivings at her inaction and finally assurances of faith and assistance at her conviction (“I’d be delighted to do whatever I can to help.” and “Know that, whatever happens, my door will always be open to you.”).

Their aid was appreciated more than they could ever know, and Catria soon saw her days filled with unprecedented euphoria. Whether she was basking in the warm glow of Kiran’s presence or making the most of the Whitewings’ reunification to soar through the skies with her family and ruler, life was so beautiful she barely even registered that there was a war on. She was optimistic, cheerful, spirited and, above all, happy.

Then, one day, Prince Marth was summoned.

When she heard the news, Catria expected to feel aghast. She thought she’d feel that same spike through her heart, that the dream would shatter and she’d be reminded of her hopeless folly. Instead, she felt…nearly nothing. There was _some_ pain, but it was just a dull, distant ache that she barely registered. It was such a far cry from what she’d been used to that she thought perhaps something wrong with her.

To make sure, she confronted the prince himself, and still she could hardly bring herself to care. Oh, he was every bit as gallant and attractive and noble as she remembered him to be, there was no doubt about that. But he was taken, and bitterly cursing that fact seemed like such a pointless waste of time and energy. She chatted with him a little, wished him a well day, and found herself content at seeing an old friend. Nothing more, nothing less.

Why had she lingered on him for as long as she had? She still remembered _why_ she fell for him, but it felt so meaningless to obsess over him as she had when it had been foolishness to desire him from the beginning. Her memories of that time still stung when brought forth, and likely would for many years, but they would remain as nothing but old wounds that ached when prodded. Whatever it was that had blinded her so, it looked to have passed now.

It registered to her, with no real significance, that she had moved on from Marth. She was finally liberated from that suffocating, single minded infatuation. She was happier and brighter than she’d ever been before, and all it had taken was daring to let herself love again. No, not just to love again – to love someone who could actually reciprocate it. Kiran had been exactly what she needed to free herself, and she thus found herself with another reason to love him.

And after all the time and moments they’d shared, whether natural or engineered by her covert support, she was confident that he felt the same.

* * *

After nursing her feelings for several moons, Catria knew the time had come to make her move. The Day of Devotion was fast approaching, and she intended to use it to its fullest potential. She knew Kiran had received plenty of platonic gifts in the year before her arrival, so she was sure a genuinely romantic gesture would stir his heart.

She’d sought out one of her peers, a Ylissean named Sumia, during a training session for aid in putting together an amorous confectionary, though she refrained from saying whom it was for. Not that that stopped Sumia from teasing her. “Chocolate on the Day of Devotion – how romantic! You know, the fastest way to a man’s heart _is_ through his stomach. I’m sure Kiran will love it, Catria.”

She immediately went flush and nearly dropped her lance. “Wha– I haven’t said anything about who I was going to give it to!” She tried to glare at the brunette, but her intense blush made it come across as more of a pout. “D-don’t assume anything about where my feelings lie!”

“Mhmm.” Sumia hummed with a knowing smile. “If you need a little burst of confidence before the big day, I recommend doing flower fortunes. If you get a bad fortune, that just means you’ll have to work harder to disprove it!”

That was a cruel joke, though Sumia had no way of knowing so. Catria had childishly sought comfort in plucked flower petals once her affections for Marth climbed to their peak. The fortune she’d received had her happily clutching the stem in her bed that night, greeted by dreams of a happy life that was never to be.

Needless to say, she was rather disillusioned with flower fortunes. “Thank you, but I think I’ll make do with just the chocolate.” The stiff delivery of her words coupled with the loss any crimson color to her cheeks made it obvious to Sumia that she’d made a faux pas, but she rebounded without missing a beat.

“Of course. I’m happy to help whenever you have the time. Would this evening be alright?” Her gentle, soothing tone was so much like Palla that Catria knew she could never have held anything against Sumia even if she wanted to.

“Yes, that will do nicely.” She chased away her darker thought and put on a grateful smile. “Truly, thank you for your aid, Sumia. This…means a great deal to me.”

“I know it does. I was the same way with Chrom.” She paused and scrunched up her nose. “Well, my Chrom anyway. Trust me, Catria, this will all go splendidly.”

Her assurances meant a great deal after Catria spent so long keeping her feelings bottled up inside. Her assistance in the kitchen meant even more; though Catria had proved to be just as awkward with sweets as she was with ordinary cooking, Sumia continued to guide her along without a fuss. They must’ve spent three evenings in there, baking batch after batch of heart shaped chocolates, before Catria finally produced something she felt worthy of conveying her love.

“It came out beautifully, Catria.” Sumia assured her as she began placing her work into a pink, wax-paper lined box adorned with ribbons and hearts. “And not a day too soon. I can’t wait to see you and your _special someone_ arm in arm tomorrow night.”

“Neither can I…” She breathed, her cheeks softly glowing as she idly fantasized about the imminent future. “I don’t know how I’ll ever pay you back for all your help, Sumia.”

Her new friend wasted no time waving off her concerns. “You’ll never have to. I adore a good romance story, so seeing you smile like that is all I need. But if you _really_ want to do something,” she leaned in to conspiratorially whisper into Catria’s ear, “I’d love to hear your personal retelling of how the confession goes.”

Catria saw an opportunity to repay Sumia for earlier badgering and put on a teasing smirk. “I’m be delighted to. That is, assuming nothing too… _intimate_ happens between us.” She had no delusions about any such indecent activities happening (she _was_ still a lady, despite her common birth), but it was worth it to insinuate as much to see Sumia’s face flare scarlet.

The Ylissean nervously chuckled her blush away. “W-well, I suppose that’s one way to get into the spirit. Regardless of what, exactly, happens tomorrow, I wish you the best of luck – though I don’t think you’ll need it.”

Catria thanked her one last time before they went their separate ways. She delicately clutched her labor of love all the way back to her room, her mind racing with possibilities. She had a real chance this time, and that knowledge kept her tossing and turning all night long in anticipation. Yet when morning broke, she wasn’t remotely lacking in energy now that the fated day had arrived.

 _This is my moment._ She hyped herself up as she got dressed. _There’s no Caeda this time. He’s not a prince obligated to marry within the nobility. He appreciates everything I do. He likes me for who I am. I just need to tell him how I feel and the rest will sort itself out._

She adjusted her headband one last time in the mirror and made for Kiran’s tower, her gift in hand. The castle was still dragging itself out of the depths of slumber, as she’d gotten ready early to make sure Kiran received her gift before anyone else’s. Mercifully, there was no guard posted outside his office – Kiran always forced them to take the day off on holidays like this, ensuring they’d be alone for such a heartfelt moment.

And yet, if Kiran was supposed to be alone right now, why did she hear his voice drift through the door? “Alright, one more before the day begins. But that’ll have to tide you over until the festivities are done and we can retire for the evening.”

 _…‘We’?_ With rapidly mounting confusion and anxiety, Catria dared to crack open the door and peek inside.

Her face went ashen as the ribbon wrapped box fell to the ground, the sound of its collision muffled by the carpet floor.

There, in plain sight, she saw him wrapping Princess Eirika in a tender embrace, their hands softly stroking each other’s cheeks.

She had been too late.

Just like before.

Just like always.

Her whole world fell out from under her, and Catria lost all perception and understanding of reality. Where was she? Why was she there? What was that she was seeing? Why did her heart feel like it was splitting in two? That sight before her wasn’t real…was it? It couldn’t be real…she wouldn’t _let_ it be real…

_no._

Try as she did to will away the spectacle in front of her, Catria’s vision remained full of Kiran and Eirika gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes, oblivious to her presence.

_No._

Their eyes began to droop shut and they leaned in towards each other’s mouths.

 _NO NO NO_.

Their lips connected and their arms locked even tighter around one another.

_NONONONO **NONONONONONONO!**_

Both of them let out low hums of pleasure, their verbalized bliss muffled by each of their mouths.

**_NOT AGAIN!_ **

Due her overwhelming fixation on the scene before her. Catria failed to notice that she’d drawn her sword and started moving into the room. Her mind had been shredded into useless impotence, unable to cope with what she’d seen…but her heart still knew exactly what to do. And even if sanity and reason had failed her in this trying time, her instincts were more than happy to pick up the slack.

**_NevEr aGaIN!!!_ **

She perceived naught but a misty, red haze, with no comprehension of space or time. It was only when a shrill, agonized scream tore through her ears that she was able to fathom the world around her once more. With distant, dreamlike apathy, she realized that her blade was buried in Eirika’s gut. Neither she nor Kiran made a sudden movement ( _they’re in shock_ , a voice that sounded like Palla said, though Catria both understood and didn’t understand her), so in the absence of interference, Catria automatically wrenched the handle as far to the side as it would go.

Eirika’s resulting excruciated cry as her innards began to spill out spurred Kiran into action, causing him to shove Catria away and begin tending to his rapidly dying lover. “Catria, what are you doing?!” He beseeched her as she pulled herself up from the floor, still unsure of the answer herself.

 _You’re fixing things!_ Spoke a voice that now sounded like Est, peppy and cheerful at her actions. Yes…she was fixing things. Catria and Kiran were meant to be together, but then Eirika ruined everything, so Catria was just making it all right again. It was Eirika’s own fault she was desperately trying to keep from bleeding to death because of that massive wound in her stomach she’d forced Catria to make. But then…why was Kiran trying to help her? Why wasn’t he happy that Catria was protecting him from that harlot?

 _He just wants her alive so she can serve in battle._ Princess Minerva’s voice now resounded through her head. _He’ll get over it once you finish what you’ve started._

Her liege was right…she needed to end what she’d began. Eirika had nearly ruined everything, but once Catria finished her off, she would finally be with the man she loved. She still remembered the soul-crushing emptiness she’d suffered in the days following Marth and Caeda’s engagement. Eirika had been trying to put her through that again and needed to pay for her crime in blood. Filled with a sudden burst of vitality, she gripped her sanguine-stained sword once more and lunged forward.

“Catria, stop!” Kiran cried, throwing himself in front of Eirika’s gasping frame. The sight sent a spike of pain through her head (because it didn’t make _sense_ , she wasn’t worth protecting, he shouldn’t care about her, she was getting in the way of their love _so why did he still care about her_ ), but she refused to be stopped now. With startling ease, she grabbed her non-combatant summoner and threw him across the room to get free access to her quarry. She kneeled to the ground with her legs on either side of Eirika’s torso and lifted her blade.

Recognition twinkled in the princess’ dimming eyes, along with a fear she was in no condition to do anything about. “Catria…please…” She begged, the words weak and distorted by the blood gurgling in her throat. Any hesitation that threatened to take form was quashed by one final thought that filled every last inch of her body. This time, it was her own voice that Catria heard ringing in her skull.

_Do it._

Not a second later, she plunged her sword into Eirika’s chest. The princess, close to death as she was, still managed to gasp in pain and dribble a little more blood from her mouth. Without missing a beat, she pulled her weapon out and stabbed again. And again. And _again_. She had no idea how many times she further ripped apart Eirika’s battered body or at what point she finally passed on. Nor had she kept any kind of track of how long she sat there, cutting the girl to ribbons. She was only broken from her reverie by Kiran forcefully shoving her away once more, though she still kept a grip on her sword.

With the faint bit of clarity his interruption afforded her, Catria was able to drink in the full extent of her handiwork. Eirika’s head was practically the only recognizable part of the Restoration Lady – her torso, bereft of its usual armor, had been maimed to shreds. Her ribs were ripped apart, torn sinews of muscle dangling from the bone. Her organs lay mixed in an indecipherable pool of guts and blood around her corpse. Despite the horrific image before her, Catria felt an overwhelming sense of pride and accomplishment. Now, with the interloper no longer a factor, Kiran would have no choice but accept her love.

Right?

She caught his gaze when he first mustered the strength to look up from the results of her efforts. When their eyes locked, she beheld a myriad of emotions swirling within them. She saw anger, hurt, betrayal, despair, shock, horror, revulsion and so much else. In that moment, she perceived more distinct feelings for her from him than she ever had before.

Not one among them was love.

 _He doesn’t love you_. To Catria, the one voice that didn’t encourage her sounded like a mocking, twisted version of Caeda.

Now that the truth was quite literally staring her in the face, Catria felt herself beginning to make a rhythmic series of gasps in her throat. She thought the uncontrollable noise quite similar to a mirthless chuckle – how better to react to such a crushing revelation than to laugh at the cruel fate the gods had seen fit to assign her?

To anyone else, it sounded like a series of broken, choking sobs.

“Why?” She managed to gag out. “Why does this always happen? What did I do wrong?! Why would you pick _her?!_ ” In her deranged state of mind, Catria didn’t even notice the tears that poured from her eyes to mingle with the fresh blood staining her cheeks. “ _Why don’t you love me?!_ ”

He stared at her in unblinking confusion, his normally keen mind struggling to keep up with her crazed ramblings. “Is _that_ what this was about?” He asked in a blank, neutral tone. “Is that really why you…why you _butchered_ Eirika?”

He might’ve tried to keep his voice even, but she didn’t miss the faint traces of affection and mourning that slipped through when he spoke his lover’s name. Nor did he manage to conceal his fearful body language as he shied away from her. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t _right_. It should’ve been _her_ name he uttered with such tender care! He should’ve been wrapped in her arms, not shrinking in fright at her presence!

“I don’t understand…” She uttered as she rose to her feet and began shambling towards him. “We were meant for each other, you and I…but even when there’s nothing in the way, you still refuse to be with me! Why?! _Tell me why!_ ”

“Catria…” Fear now leaked out through his voice and he began scrambling backwards with wide eyes. Though she couldn’t see why _,_ since she only wanted to know what was necessary to win his love.

“Tell me.” She demanded with frightening calm, the grip on her sword tightening in turn as she drew closer. “Was I not pretty enough? Not strong enough? Was it my common birth? Did you think I still held feelings for Prince Marth? Whatever it was, we can move past it! You just need to tell me where you thought I was lacking and we can work through it!”

“C-Catria, it wasn’t your fault.” He stammered out. “You’re a w-wonderful woman, and I cared about you, i-it’s just…”

“You don’t love me.” She identified, her last fragile strands of patience rapidly growing thin. “I know that. Just tell me _why_.”

His eyes darted around the room, desperately looking at anything that wasn’t her. “I-I…” In the absence of any response, she realized the truth, impossible as it was.

He had no reason. There was no explanation. No matter what she did, he was always going to choose Eirika over her. There was no rationale as to why.

She couldn’t accept that.

She _wouldn’t_ accept that.

 _You’re the one holding the sword,_ Est reminded her.

 _He’s always been helpless on his own,_ Palla pointed out.

 _You have all the power right now,_ Minerva concluded for her.

If he refused to reciprocate her feelings, she would _make_ him love her.

“Don’t move.” She ordered with a point of her sword as she closed the final distance between them. He’d already managed to back himself against the wall, so it wasn’t like he had anywhere to go anyway. She hovered her blade at his throat and kneeled as she had with Eirika, both of her legs situated on either side of his body.

“C-Catria, stop this!” He begged and recoiled away from her. The sight made her nauseous – why did he have to be so difficult about this? What was so hard about loving her?!

“I told you not to move!” She screamed in frustration and pressed her sword into the skin of his neck. His breath hitched in his throat and he stiffened immediately, allowing her to grab his head with her free hand and force it towards her.

Without another word, she lunged forward to capture his lips with her own. Initially, the sensation left her awash in a wave of bliss, but that euphoria quickly gave way to resentment at how one-sided the lip lock was. She was hardly an experienced kisser, and was almost entirely relying on instinct to guide her, but even she could tell he wasn’t being an active participant. Even when she slid her tongue out to try and pry open his mouth, his lips remained steadfastly shut. Worse was the knowledge that, though her own body shuddered in carnal delight, she could feel how his shivered in revulsion underneath her.

She gripped a fistful of his hair and dragged her sword across his throat with just enough force to draw a trickle of blood. “Kiss me!” She growled, her voice low and dangerous. His eyes, which had instinctively clenched shut, now cracked open at her order. The undisguised disgust with which he glared at her made her flinch in shock, but she quickly recomposed herself. “ _Do it!_ ” She snarled and pulled on the clump of hair held in her hand.

He gave a cry of pain as she did so, giving her ample opportunity to force her way into his mouth the moment it opened. She simultaneously explored him with her tongue and tried to grind her loins into his own. Her free hand released his hair and wandered over his body, tracing a path between his neck, torso and waist. Despite her efforts, she was only ever rewarded with more revolted squirming and writhing. His ceaseless cries of protest may have been muffled by her kiss, but she still heard them all the same, just as she felt his tongue constantly dart away from hers no matter how hard she tried to entwine them together.

This was all wrong. Why was he still refusing her? Even when she forced him at the tip of a sword to return her affections, he still insisted on fighting her! What more could she possibly do?!

She finally pulled her lips off of his, both to catch her breath and because his constant resistance had sucked any enjoyment out of the experience, and the way he immediately began spitting at the ground in loathing made her want to throw up. “Why are you being so difficult?!” She demanded, finally at the end of her rope. “It was supposed to be simple: I’d confess, we’d be wed, and live long and happy lives surrounded by our children. Our daughters would’ve been proud pegasus knights like me and our sons would’ve followed in your footsteps to be accomplished tacticians. It was supposed to be _easy_! So why are you making it so hard?!” She was still hoping against hope that he’d finally see reason and accept her feelings, and as such her entire world shattered when, of all things, he looked at her with _pity_. Just like Est and Palla and Minerva and _everyone else_ pitied her, like she was a stupid child who could never do anything right and would be rewarded with nothing but failure no matter how hard she tried.

“You’re sick, Catria.” He admonished her, his bizarre mixture of contempt and sympathy finally outweighing his fear even as she held his life in her hands. “You’re so sick you can’t even see what’s right in front of you. Look at what you’ve done: murder a comrade in cold blood out of jealousy and try to rape the man you supposedly love. You’ve dashed anything I might have felt for you, and even if you hadn’t, how did you think this was all going to end? How did you think everyone else was going to take what you did? You can do whatever you want to me – you’ve still got a date with the hangman for your crimes.” He brushed away any remaining vestiges of pity and glared at her with all the hatred he could muster. “I loved Eirika, and you slaughtered her like it was nothing. I’ll _never_ love you.”

 _He’ll never love you,_ taunted Caeda as Catria replayed his final words over and over in her head. He wouldn’t (couldn’t, didn’t) love her. She would be executed for what she did. He would live without her and be happier because of it. Maybe he would even move on from Eirika and find someone else someday. He would grow old and have a family with someone that _wasn’t her_.

She refused to let that happen. She refused to let him reject her and walk away.

“No…” She uttered and removed her blade from his throat, only to suddenly replace it with one of her hands as she began wringing his neck. “You’re _mine_!” She spat and positioned her sword over his sternum. “We’re meant to be together! But if you won’t love me…if I can’t have you…” She looked at him, choking and dying in her hands, and nearly wavered in her resolve. But then she imagined him content and fulfilled with some faceless woman and she knew this course of action was the only one available. “If I can’t have you, _then nobody can!_ ”

She drove her sword through his chest, determined to keep Kiran by her side even if only in death. As blood began pooling in and dribbling from his mouth, she noticed for the first time the wet trails pouring from her eyes. Now that she had crossed this final threshold, she felt none of the triumph or satisfaction she expected. On the contrary, she felt absolute nothingness, as if the hollow emptiness in her soul had physically manifested itself. The misery she’d suffered in the days following Marth’s formal engagement to Caeda couldn’t compare to the spiritual desolation of actually stabbing the love of her life.

“…Kiran?” She whispered. His dull, vacant eyes gave no answer, nor did his still chest that no longer rhythmically bobbed up and down from a regular intake of breath.

He was dead.

She had killed him with her own two hands. Neither her sisters nor her liege offered any words of encouragement this time. Even Caeda had fallen silent in the dark, empty room. She had nothing but a blood-soaked dress and the proof of her sins around her. Catria was truly alone.

“No, I…I didn’t mean…” She whimpered to herself, her uncontrollably flowing tears now accompanied by a series of hacking sobs. “Kiran, please, I-I wasn’t trying to…I d-didn’t want this to happen…I was only…” _Only what, Catria?_ She asked herself with all the spite and self-loathing she could muster. _Only proving yourself every bit the loathsome devil he accused you of being?_ The dead provided no consolation, and Catria at last saw clearly and fully comprehended the lengths to which she had gone. “Dear Gods…w-what have I done?” She wished desperately for some kind of rationale for what had happened, but any attempts to convince herself that it was merely a nightmare or some horrid vision fell flat relative to her earlier delusions.

She had robbed herself of any future with her actions. Never mind her impending execution (she’d be lucky if that was all they did, they’d probably sooner torture her to death in vengeance), the thought of continuing to live in a world without Kiran was unbearable. Killing her beloved had not only made her an irredeemable monster – it had also destroyed any reason to go on living. How could she dare to keep drawing breath when every second of existence would be spent bereft of Kiran and bearing the guilt of snuffing out his life?

Distantly, she realized she was still clutching the handle of her sword. Without really thinking, she began to pull it from its fleshy sheath. The dreadful, terrible sound it made, scraping as it grinded against his bones and wet as bloody tendons caught on the blade, sent her head spinning in another wave of nausea. Her years of visceral combat experience were all that kept her from expelling the contents of her stomach onto the crimson pool beneath her. Once her weapon was free, she gazed at its grisly state and slowly understood the only option she had left.

This sword had already ended the lives of two heroes – one more wouldn’t hurt.

“I’m sorry…” She wept to her vacant surroundings. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” She angled the still sharp tip of her sabre towards her throat and took one last look at the corpse before her. “I’ll not leave you alone, my love. I’m coming to join you. That’s the least I can do at this point.” Her assurance was delivered with a twisted facsimile of her normal confident grin, whose blatant falseness indicated how little Catria believed her own words. She may have been following Kiran out of this world, but there could be no doubt that their souls were headed for different destinations.

Part of her lamented leaving her sisters behind, but a quick death here and now was infinitely preferable to the agony of enduring their inevitable disgusted and horrified reactions. Her impulsive fit of madness had forever tainted the honor of Whitewings, and though she knew she was taking the coward’s way out, she couldn’t bear the thought of facing Princess Minerva or her siblings. To say nothing of how lowly Prince Marth or Ephraim would think of her…

She heaved a final breath to steady her frayed nerves and shook her head; stalling with thoughts of condemnations she wouldn’t get to see would change nothing. Now nearly as still as Kiran’s carcass, she closed her eyes and emptied her mind of all intrusive thoughts. She needed only the strength to slay one last enemy of the Order.

She barely even felt it when the ensanguined sword pierced her neck.

_Kiran…Eirika…everyone…though I do not deserve it, please…forgive me…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I believe something like this is what most people think of when they hear the word yandere: a girl who can’t handle rejection snapping and murdering whomever got picked over them in a crazed frenzy. Ironically, Catria could handle losing Marth to Caeda, albeit with a lot of hurt feelings; it was getting passed over a second time by someone she looked to have a real chance with (and the Breidablik fucking with her head) that pushed her over the edge. Catria was too upset to ask why, but Kiran and Eirika were keeping their relationship secret because they weren’t sure if Ephraim would flip his shit or not and wanted to make certain he was cool with Kiran before saying anything. They were stiff and awkward in front of Catria because they wanted to be lovey-dovey but couldn’t with her watching.
> 
> Catria was an Attack Type, meaning she, as described above, snaps upon seeing the object of her affection choose another woman over her and is willing to harm both said woman and the one she loves because of it. Not to mention being willing to try and force herself onto him when he rejects her. I leave it to you to decide how sympathetic Catria was. She does ultimately realize she’s done something horrible at the end, which is more than Ayra can say, but then her crimes of passion were arguably worse than Ayra’s premeditated murder. 
> 
> I think I’ve decided on all the remaining yandere, and they come from the following worlds: 2 from Archanea, 1 from Jugdral, 2 from Elibe, 2 from Magvel, 1 from Tellius, 1 from Ylisse, 1 from Fateslandia and 1 from Fodlan. That may change a little in one or two spots, but it's the basic gist. If you want, guess who the (un)lucky few will be or even what brand of crazy they’ll have. 
> 
> Next thing I upload should be Journey Through Pressure chapter 4, which is all planned out, so please be patient for two or three more months while I write that.
> 
> Please leave comments, good or bad, since your feedback is how I learn. Thank you for reading.


	3. L'Arachel - Delusional Type

* * *

_When love is not madness, it is not love_

* * *

L’Arachel was many things: beautiful, a princess, a beautiful princess (of peerless beauty), a champion of justice, a holy woman, and much more. It was only natural that, sooner or later, the title of Hero would be added to added to her glorious list of epithets. After all, who else but her, whose parents had lost their lives in the name of all that was good, was suited to fight against the forces of evil? As such, she was delighted to find herself in the service of Askr in its most dire hour.

Given her goals and disposition, the Order of Heroes was absolutely perfect for her. Not only did it give her endless chances to bring righteous fury upon these Emblian villains, but it also provided ample opportunity to spread her good name amongst a multitude of words. Why, by the time she was finished, her fellow princes and princesses would be singing her praises to their subjects in countless kingdoms!

And yet, if she was to make sure she left a good impression on the Order’s members, one person’s approval was especially imperative: the Summoner himself, Kiran. As the de facto leader of the Order, he was, of course, the most noble and pure of them all. How was she to claim she represented the ideals she stood for if she could not earn the endorsement of one so virtuous?

Which, naturally, led to her recounting one of her more daring escapades to him in the seclusion of his office. “…and then, imbued with the holy might of my ancestors, I smote the fiend against the mountainside! My heroic deeds that day surely saved countless innocents from a fate most foul, no?” She was rather proud of that particular story, and didn’t hesitate to enhance its weight with all manner of dramatic poses. She’d chosen it specifically because she was certain her exceptional gallantry that day would have Kiran slack jawed in awe.

So then what did he think he was doing looking so bored?! “That’s, um, great, L’Arachel. So…what was that important thing you said I had to hear right away?”

“How rude!” She chastised and crossed her arms. “What could possibly be more important than learning of my noble feats firsthand?”

He didn’t begin frantically backpedaling as he should have – instead, he just raised an eyebrow and propped his head most ungracefully in his hand. “Uh, my job? You know, making strategies that don’t get you or anyone else killed?”

“What ever are you worrying about that for?” She put her hands on her hips. “You have divine providence guiding your hand! I am a Hero, but you are the one and only _Great_ Hero! The heavens themselves will assure the security of our sacred mission!”

“Well, L’Arachel, not everyone here believes in the same gods.” He deadpanned with that same disinterested look on his face. “So forgive me if I’m not about to roll the dice that any watchful deities can be trusted to protect everyone equally.”

“Taking heart in the hallowed protection guaranteed to the faithful is not at all comparable to the immoral debauchery of gambling!” She harumphed and did him the great dishonor of turning her head away. “First you refuse to give my tale the amazement it is due and now you dare to doubt the word of a holy woman? I’ve scarcely been here a week and already I find myself amazed at the indignities you’ve made me suffer!” To think he would brush her off so easily! She was the light of Rausten! A shining beacon of hope the common people looked (or at least _would_ look) to in their hour of need! Who was he to dismiss her brilliance with barely a thought?

Unless…

Could it be…he was _so_ righteous and noble that even her great deeds were hardly worth acknowledging in comparison to his own?

Yes, of course that was it! She’d just pointed out he was _the_ Great Hero, hadn’t she? It only figured that he had accomplished far more than her in his time. What had she been thinking, believing that a droll retelling of her grand heroics would be enough to impress him? She would simply have to demonstrate her greatness in person before he would see her as worthy of acknowledgement.

“Okay, look,” he interrupted her internal revelation, “what if I set aside some time to listen to your stories later? Would that make you happy, L’Arachel?” Truth be told, he still sounded rather fed up, though at least now she understood why. She would hardly have reacted differently had a common sellsword tried to regale her with some humdrum story about guarding a flock of sheep. And yet, he was not dismissing her outright. Perhaps he _had_ caught a glimmer of the glory shining in her soul and was waiting to see what became of it.

And besides, she was hardly one to pass up a chance to recount her tales to a willing audience. “Hmph. I suppose that will be an acceptable first step in making up for your prior injustices. In turn, I shall prove my splendor is more than mere embellishment on the field of battle. Just you wait, Kiran!” She rested her left hand on her breast and raised her right to the heavens. “In no time at all, you shall come to understand the indelible magnificence of L’Arachel, Princess of Light!”

“…Yeah, alright. Sure.” At this point, she was sure he was sounding painfully bored as some sort of test. Even if her feats paled in comparison to his own, it simply wasn’t possible for anyone to be _that_ indifferent to her illustriousness. But she would not be discouraged by his farce of disinterest! “I’ll tell you when I make a bit of free time; I can’t imagine you’ll be very hard to find. If a week goes by with no word, just come up and remind me. Oh, and I’ll try to make space on a team so you can, you know, ‘prove your splendor’.”

“Magnificent!” It was so reassuring to know he hadn’t been shortsighted enough to write her off entirely. “I shall eagerly await your summons. Until then, I bid you a most fond farewell!”

“You do that. Have a good day, L’Arachel.” She reciprocated his wave and departed, no doubt leaving him in intense deliberation over just how incredible she really was. Yes, she knew that it wouldn’t be long before Kiran personally showered her in the adoration she was due. He would surely praise her valor, spirit, and beauty ( _especially_ her beauty) as greater than that of any other woman he had ever known!

* * *

While delaying even one day on the continuation of her retellings was an egregious slight, let alone the four that Kiran made her wait, L’Arachel was willing to overlook it in favor of dazzling the summoner with her grandeur. On the first day he made time just for her, she regaled him with the story of how she’d saved one of Rausten’s border towns practically singlehanded (with maybe a smidgen of help from Dozla and Rennac she decided wasn’t worth mentioning) from an army of fiends (two revenants could easily prove just as destructive as a million men, no matter how sickly they were!).

Before the next anecdote day, she had made a magnificent display to Kiran by both healing the very Empress of Begnion (never mind that she’d never even _heard_ of Begnion before that day) and smiting an Emblian villain with her Ellight tome during a patrol. Then, three days later, she recounted how she once purged an entire village of a debilitating plague – a single wave of her restore staff had cured that young girl’s sniffles before they could surely worsen into a dreadful epidemic of black lung. While the tale of the border town was received with much the same dry boredom as before, he had a notably greater interest in the story about the plague – why, he even asked questions once she was done!

From then on, he always made more of an effort to get invested into her exploits. He was hardly astounded into tearful awe like the common people would be, but he at least bothered to react to what happened in the story. Just as she had predicted, a firsthand view of her glory was all it took to get him to take her more seriously. Now that he did, she found herself even more excited about the prospect of recounting her experiences. The moment one of their meetings ended, she immediately began preparing what she’d talk about in the next one. Ordinarily, she’d just ramble off from memory and allow her feats to speak for themselves. But then, Kiran was no ordinary audience, was he? Being thought of as a good Hero wasn’t sufficient – he had to see her as a _perfect_ Hero (even if she wasn’t entirely why).

And so they carried on through the end of summer and into fall, meeting every few days so he could learn of her past greatness while occasionally offering a present demonstration every now and then on a mission. It was a comfortable routine that indulged her justly earned pride such that she saw little point in singing her praises to anyone else. Kiran still wasn’t tripping over himself in wonder, which only meant that she had to try that much harder to earn his praise. Once she did, everyone else’s would doubtless follow, though none would matter as much as his.

Her plan hit an unexpected snag when a whole week passed and she found herself with no invitation to his office. Only once had he taken a dreadful six days to seek her companionship – to go this long without a meeting was unprecedented. But she had no difficulty remembering his instructions to give him a reminder should they be apart that long. So she didn’t hesitate to march up his tower steps, a flowery speech about not leaving a lady waiting ready on her lips.

She gave a courtesy knock before throwing open his door and marching in. “You have committed a most indefensible transgression this day, Kiran! Against me, yes, but against yourself as well – it is nothing short of barbaric to deprive your ears of my angelic voice for as long as you have, especially after the two have become so accustomed to each other!”

“Oh God…” She directed her attention outward upon hearing the irritation in his voice and saw him hunched over a mess of papers and maps, one hand massaging his temple while the other held a quill. “Not _now_ , L’Arachel, I’m busy!”

_My, what an uncouth attitude!_ “Whatever all that is, I can’t imagine it’s so important that you can’t at least maintain a civil tone when speaking with me.” Her scolding manner of speaking got him to throw his quill across the desk and glare at her, revealing a disconcerting detail in the process. “Oh my. Those are rather dark circles under your eyes. You had best get some more sleep, Kiran!”

He groaned and clenched a piece of parchment beneath his newly free hand. “I _can’t_ sleep because I’ve got work to do! Do you have any idea what kind of stress I’m under? Do you bother to pay attention to _anything_ that happens around here? In case you haven’t noticed, half of our cavalry ranks and all the tacticians are bedridden with a hex from Veronica herself and Henry’s team won’t have the counter-hex figured out for at least another week. Meanwhile, Gustav still expects us to take out that captured Askran fort on the Torne River within the next three days. We _had_ a plan for that all ready to go, but it relied on a mass cavalry charge and is thus now worth jack shit! So I’ve been having fun coming up with a new strategy with both hands tied behind my back, and now I get to put up with your nonsense on top of all that!”

Come to think of it, she _had_ heard something about a hex affecting a large number of Heroes. She wanted to jump in and selflessly volunteer to cleanse the afflicted of their ailment, but whoever was talking about it immediately revealed that only dark magic would be capable of breaking the Emblian spell. L’Arachel would throw herself off the castle parapets before she went anywhere near such foul sorcery without the intention of smiting it from the face of the world, so she quickly decided the matter as a whole didn’t concern her and forgot about it.

Of far greater concern to her was this insulting attitude Kiran had taken on. She didn’t fully blame him – Gods knew _she_ got cranky when deprived of her essential beauty sleep – but that didn’t mean she was going to stand there and listen to him gripe. And she especially wouldn’t let him get away with using her as an outlet for his frustrations. _Calling my feats ‘nonsense’? Ha! Being put under a little pressure is no excuse to tell such blatant lies!_

“Hmph.” She crossed her arms and titled up her chin as if she were a schoolteacher lecturing an unruly student. “Rather than lament what you do not possess, you should treasure what you do.”

“…What? Was that supposed to be helpful? Because that might’ve been the most worthless nothing advice I’ve ever heard. Everyone ‘laments’ the paddle when they’re up the creek without it.”

“Will you listen to yourself for a second?” She shook her head. “This petulant pessimism is unbecoming of you, Kiran. If I were the last line of defense between some dreadful monster and helpless innocents and found myself armed with nothing but my staff, I would not sit there cursing whatever circumstances led to me being without my tome. If even my staff were absent and I was left with naught but my bare hands, I would not fling crude language as if that would somehow help my situation. The past is the past, and I would have a sacred duty to carry out regardless of the state I was in.”

Kiran, much to her anger, rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that sounds like a great idea, L’Arachel. I don’t suppose you’ve ever actually thought about what would happen if you tried to fist fight a monster beyond how totally awesome it would make you look?”

“I imagine it would end very poorly for me.” She answered with a rare seriousness, earning a double take from Kiran for her trouble. “In fact, my life would almost certainly be forfeit. But what of the alternative? Shall I flee with my tail between my legs and leave it free to terrorize the citizens in its path? No, I think not.” As Kiran began to look at her in a different light, she locked her eyes with his. “I have an obligation both moral and spiritual to do all within my power to destroy evil wherever it appears. Should I sacrifice myself in the process, so be it – if even a single innocent life is spared by my actions, then it was all worthwhile. There is no higher honor in the land than to lay down my life in service to the greater good.” If she thought anything less, she would not be giving her departed parents the respect they were due. No matter what happened, she would always take pride in being their daughter, and that meant doing all she could to live up to their example.

Kiran’s ire had faded in the face of her impromptu sermon, leaving him to look at his knuckles in quiet contemplation. “…If it were just me alone, I could accept the lesson you’re tying to teach. But this is bigger than me – I’m directly responsible for a lot of lives, yours included. And not everyone lives up to the same ideals you do. I can’t send people into a hopeless battle and tell them that dying is the right thing to do.”

“I should hope not.” She agreed, to his apparent surprise. “After all, we wouldn’t need the Order if everyone was as virtuous as you or I. But my point isn’t that everyone needs to be willing to pay the ultimate price in the name of good. I mean, they _should_ , but that’s not what we’re talking about. I’m merely stressing the futility of cynicism – our duties are what they are, and we cannot let rueful misgivings keep us from focusing on the task at hand. The innocent need protecting and that fort needs capturing, regardless of what we have on hand with which to carry out those responsibilities.”

“…I thought I could rely on the Gods to make sure everything turns out okay?” He asked with a hint of a wry smile.

Oh, he thought he was clever, did he? “The Gods help those who help themselves, Kiran. They’ll not see you as worthy of their protection if you spend all day wallowing in doubt and self-pity.”

Her no-nonsense attitude wiped that burgeoning wit from his face and caused him to sweep his gaze over the documents scattered on his desk, his eyes glazed with a distant look. “I can see you’re in no state to give my great deeds the attention they’re due.” She declared in the absence of any further input from him. “I am willing to leave you be if I must, but I expect compensation for being made to wait so long!” When he still made no comment, she gave a quiet huff and turned to leave.

As she approached the door, she finally heard him speak again. “…L’Arachel.” She expectantly turned her head back at his address. “I…thank you. I really needed to hear that. Just give me a few days and I swear I’ll make this up to you.”

“Thanks are unnecessary, as I am a font of wisdom and simply cannot resist giving advice wherever it is needed. That said,” she winked at him, “don’t feel like you have to hold back when making restitution to me.”

That put a good-natured grin on his face. “Oh, I won’t. May the gods bless your path, L’Arachel.”

“And yours as well, Kiran.” She departed, and was surprised to see she was feeling in much higher spirits than when she arrived. Yes, Kiran’s little funk was a tad grating at first, but she would be a hypocrite if she condemned him over a momentary lapse in confidence. Even she rarely found herself wondering if she was really doing the right thing, if her parents would really be proud of the woman she’d become. But soothing his troubled mind had completely cleansed her of any such thoughts and left her reassured that she was indeed incapable of doing anything less than spreading light and righteousness with everything she did.

* * *

A week came and went, and with it a fort came back under Askran control and the filth of Veronica’s hex was cleansed from the Order. As she understood it, Kiran devised some maneuver centered around using a squadron of pegasus knights as a feint to draw the attention of the defenders to one side of the fortress. Whatever it was he came up with, it worked and saw the citadel captured with no casualties to the Order.

He was in a visibly brighter mood once that was done and was all too eager to invite her back to his office. He even had had tea and sweets laid out for her from then on! Without needing to be prompted, he assured her that her compensation was ‘in the works’. She might’ve suspected a lesser man of trying to swindle her by constantly delaying until she forgot about the matter, but she had full confidence that Kiran would deliver on his word.

Their meetings continued through to the end of the month with ever greater regularity and frequency. Now, Kiran barely ever went three days before seeking out her company, always with an eager smile on his face. She was all too happy to oblige him, especially now that he gave her his rapt attention – she could see the interest that twinkled in his eyes at the very sight of her.

When the month’s final week began, he asked her to stay a while longer after telling of the time she smote an entire den of monsters all on her own. “I’ve finally got your payback ready, and just in time too.” He said, sparking her interest.

“Well, it’s about time!” She chided with no real animosity. “Has it taken you this long to remember how rude it is to keep a lady waiting?”

He chuckled and pulled a bundle of clothes from under his desk. “If I could, I’d have given you this the day I thought of it.” She took them from him, curious at what kind of outfit he thought was befitting of a holy woman like her. If it was scandalous in any way, she resolved to whack him into a coma with her staff, sacrilege be damned. “The Harvest Festival is in a couple days, and I figured the ‘Princess of Light’ would want to attend with a little more flair than her normal outfit.”

That was, to her delight, an incredibly accurate assessment. She had in fact been contemplating that very issue and been frustrated by her lack of solutions. She knew she absolutely _had_ to attend the festival the second she heard about it, but hadn’t the faintest clue where to acquire the appropriate attire. There was the village where the festival would be held, sure, but their costumes were made by and for commoners, and L’Arachel was worthy of much more than that. His timing was most auspicious indeed, but the all-important question remained: was it fitting for someone of her prestige and beauty? She unfurled the bundle out onto the desk and gasped at what she saw.

The costume consisted of a short black dress with a much longer one-sided white dress to be worn over it. Shin-high heeled boots and thigh-high black stockings would cover her legs and a brown belt with several holsters would drape across her waist. On top of all that was a large white coat with fashionable tatters at the bottom and a tasteful gold trim along the collar. Finally, there were a set of pumpkin earrings and a pair of spiral patterned goggles.

“This is…I mean, it’s…it’s…”

“Aw, damn it.” Kiran cursed, sounding very disappointed in himself. “That bad, huh?”

“It’s PERFECT!” She exclaimed, holding up the goggles to see how they caught the light. “It enhances my natural beauty without descending into indecency! The goggles will allow me to conceal my identity should the need arise! It has just the right touch of festive flair without going over the top! No matter what costumes others may don, this would undoubtably be the best!”

“I’m, uh, glad you like it so much.”

She turned to him, her face set in a full-tooth smile. “Like it? I LOVE it!” She threw on the white coat and twirled to watch how it fluttered. “This is stupendous! I couldn’t imagine a better gift if I tried! Oh!” She stopped when she realized something was missing. “Where’s your costume, Kiran? I assume you’ve taken the necessary measures to ensure we’ll have matching outfits.”

To her dismay, he blinked in surprise at her. “I don’t have a costume. I specifically commissioned Oboro to make that weeks ago, so there’s not exactly time to make another when the festival is only two days away. I mean, I guess I could try to nab something from the tailor in town, but it’s kind of last minute and there probably isn’t much left.”

“What?!” She dropped the coat in shock, though scooped it back up the second she recovered. “B-but – you cannot attend in those same drab robes you always wear! You are the Great Hero! Your brilliance must shine brightest of all to inspire the people!”

He shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know what to tell you, L’Arachel. I’m just going to have to make the most of it like this. No point lamenting what I don’t have, right?”

“Well, yes, that is true…” Oh, this just wouldn’t do! He obviously had to go to the festival, but he couldn’t walk around without a suitably festive look. Any run-of-the-mill costume would only be distracting in how ill-suited it was – a man of his caliber deserved better! But then, what could be done…?

Once again, L’Arachel gasped, this time because she was struck by a bolt of inspiration. It was so simple, she couldn’t believe it took her so long to think of it. “I’ve got it!” She reached out, wrapped her arm around Kiran’s shoulders and pulled him close. “You’ll just have to attend the festival with me! We’ll spend the whole evening together, seeing the sights and bringing delight to the people. We are, after all, the only ones in the Order whose magnificences are comparable to one another – I alone have what it takes to draw out your splendor when you’ve no costume to help do it for you.”

She glanced over to see his cheeks flush and eyes wide. That was a perfectly natural response, as it wasn’t everyday the beautiful princess of peerless beauty invited him to enjoy a festival together. “I-I guess I can’t turn down an offer like that, huh?”

“Indeed you can’t!” She stretched out her free hand and slowly dragged it across their lines of sight. “Just envision it, Kiran: the Great Hero shall grace the festival with his presence, and at his side shall stand a mysterious woman of otherworldly beauty and grace! The villagers will gasp in awe, stunned by his anonymous yet captivating companion. Everywhere we go, the citizens will find their hearts filled with joy by our mere appearance! And, of course, any evil that dares to threaten the merriment will find itself ruthlessly exorcised by our holy might!”

“…I think most of them are just going to want some candy.”

“Oh.” She blinked, her hand hung frozen in the air. “Well, then! If it’s candy they want, then it’s candy they shall have. So long as we bring happiness to their lives, the method makes no difference.”

She’d been looking forward to the festival before, but now she could hardly wait. The fun, the adoration, the cheer – it would all be unforgettable. Her blood was pumping just thinking about it! And, if she dared to be honest with herself…the fact that Kiran would be at her side the entire time was what got her heart racing most of all.

* * *

The Harvest Festival proved to be every bit the delight she hoped it would. The village was strung up in countless decorations and the crowds scampered to and fro in their charming costumes seeking tricks or treats. She and Kiran had amassed quite the helping of candy to dispense throughout the evening, though some unscrupulous thief from Ylisse tried to abscond with it numerous times before finally giving up. In addition, Kiran was thoughtful enough to acquire several vials and flasks to use as props with her costume and add that extra bit of flair.

As expected, she turned heads and was the subject of hushed whispers wherever they went. Okay, maybe they didn’t quite gasp in stunned awe the way she hoped they would, but there was no denying she made the greatest impression on the festival goers. Some of the other Heroes in attendance made a valiant effort, but their witch and vampire costumes just couldn’t hold a candle to her own. She graced them with a generous share of sweets anyway as a token of thanks – she couldn’t look the best if there was no competition to compare against, now could she?

She and Kiran partook in all manner of mirth throughout the night: they enjoyed a variety of treats, sampled the banquet laid out in the town square and engaged in friendly competition via the various games that had been set up. She always kept them on the move, both the enjoy everything on offer and to enhance the mystique of her presence by ensuring no one got too familiar with her. It was well past the stroke of midnight before she guided him to the hill overlooking the village, so that they could rest their legs and drink in the sights of both the festival and the starlit sky that blanketed it.

“Ah, what an enchanting evening!” She contentedly sighed and leaned back. “Did you see the glee on everyone’s faces when we revealed our reserve bag of candy?”

Kiran opted to wrap his arms around his bent knees. “How could I miss it? Honestly, you’d never think there’s a war on with how celebratory everyone is. Most people back home never got this jubilant during the holidays even when there was nothing else going on.”

“That peace of mind is paramount. Bringing a reprieve from the sorrows of war is the greatest gift we could give them, whether it comes from candy or my captivating beauty. If the people are happy, then so am I!”

He chuckled and caught her eye. “If that’s all it takes, I think you’ll always be happy the rest of your life. You’ve got a way of putting a smile on people’s faces.”

She lifted her head in well-deserved pride. “True, I _am_ a beacon of inspiration to all who see me. But, for once, the credit is not mine alone to take. I would not have had so wonderful a time nor been able to lift their spirits so were you not at my side every step of the way. Even if I would have rather seen you looking more festive, you were what made this night truly special.” She felt her cheeks heat up when she realized what she’d just said. Goodness, where had that come from? Never mind her cheeks, since when did this costume make her feel so hot under the collar?

“O-oh, um,” he coughed into his hand and looked away, “thank you. That means a lot.”

An awkward silence began to stretch over the hilltop. L’Arachel knew she needed to do _something_ to restore the mood, but what? One of her daring deeds would probably do the trick, but she found herself unable to think of any he hadn’t already heard. Come to think of it, she wasn’t able to think of much besides all the little moments she shared with Kiran that night. She got the impression this kind of one-track mind meant something was wrong, but then why did it feel so right…?

Her deliberation was broken by the sound of Kiran sighing. “Aw, what the hell.” He looked her dead in the eye now that he had her attention again. “You want to go out?”

“…Excuse me?” They were already outside, so she had no clue what he was asking.

He winced and clenched his fists. “Damn it, you wouldn’t know what that means, would you? Uh, how about this: you want to start a relationship?”

“… _Excuse_ me?!” _That_ she understood. The heat in her face now felt like a blazing inferno and she could practically hear her heart pounding in her ears. “A-are you asking for us to enter a _courtship_?!”

He darted his eyes to the side for a second before flicking them back and nodding his head. “Yeah, I guess am.”

“W-well, I, that is to say…” Oh Gods above, there were no words for this! She was a holy woman! A princess! A pure maiden whose heart was practically a national treasure of Rausten! And who was he? Only the Great Hero, her one and only equal in righteous virtue who had indulged her every whim, become her closest friend and confidant, given her this splendid outfit, and made this night the happiest memory she could think of…

…

…Perhaps there was a reason she was blushing so hard beyond simple flattery. With that realization, she shot to her feet, her hand resting protectively over her breast. “Y-you brute! You depraved lecher!”

He ducked his head in shame. “Geez, if you’re going to shoot me down, you don’t have to be so harsh about it…”

“I see no reason to mince words! You are an unseemly thief! How dare you steal my heart right out from under my nose?!”

He looked back up, confusion etched on his face. “I beg your pardon?”

“You’re darn right you do! Who do you think you are, making me want to spend every day at your side until we grow old together?!”

Kiran stumbled to his feet without losing any of his bewilderment. “I-I’m sorry, was that a yes…?”

She wanted to take a step backwards, but unconsciously leaned forward instead. “You had better be sorry! The sheer nerve of it, tempting a holy woman like me with such–”

“L’Arachel.”

“–consuming desires! Why, you even had the utter gall to be complete gentleman about it–”

“L’Arachel!”

“–so as the make me fall for you even more! I should’ve expected a brilliant tactician such as yourself to devise a devious plan to win my eternal love and–”

“ _L’Arachel!_ ”

She was wrenched from her tirade by the urgency in Kiran’s voice and saw that his own cheeks were blazing scarlet. “If I get on one knee and kiss your hand, will that give you a decent excuse to accept my confession?”

The very tips of her ears burned red at the mere thought of his suggestion, but she held out her right hand all the same. “I-I suppose that would be an acceptable start.”

With a fair amount of embarrassment fueled stiffness, he kneeled down and took her hand in his own. That alone caused her to briefly shudder, but then he extended his head forward and made her shiver further with anticipation. Though she wore a glove, it still sent tingles up her spine the second she felt his lips touch her knuckles through the cloth. She would never admit as much, but he pulled away and stood back up far too quickly for her taste.

Still, she had one more way to milk this moment for all it was worth. “W-well, you have shown yourself to be a suitably courteous and romantic suitor. But, as I am no ordinary woman, I would have you make one last gesture of love before I can reciprocate your affections!”

His shoulders slumped and he gave her such an exasperated look that she felt a spike of guilt for putting him through the wringer. “And what would that be?” Unfortunately for him, her perpetual need to have her ego stroked outweighed any momentary shame.

“As I have recounted a great many tales of my heroic undertakings, I would see you return the favor by revealing which of my countless fabulous qualities won your heart.”

She expected to hear a heartfelt outpouring and as such was disconcerted when Kiran’s exasperation turned to discomfort and he began wringing his hands together. “…My parents always said honesty is the key to any successful relationship. So, even though this really isn’t the time or the place and it’ll almost certainly kill the mood, I’ll tell the truth.” _What truth? I swear, if he isn’t serious about me…_ She watched him take a deep breath, wary of whatever was about to come out of his mouth. “To start, when I first met you, I…sort of thought you were nothing but an obnoxious braggart.”

“You _what?!_ ” She had never heard crueler words in all her life! “Do you mean to say you weren’t just feigning apathy to motivate me?”

“For those first couple stories? No, I wasn’t. The reason I first proposed our sessions was so I could control when you spun your yarn because I thought you’d just barge in at random otherwise. But then I actually saw you in action, and I had to admit you weren’t full of hot air. I mean, the stories were all still obviously embellished, but I could sort of piece together what really happened and that kept me engaged.”

L’Arachel could hardly believe these atrocious revelations. “I’m sorry, ‘embellished’? What embellishment?! I’ll have you know that every tale I’ve ever told happened exactly as I described it!” He didn’t even dignify her with a response – he just crossed his arms and gave her a very disappointed, unimpressed look. “…Okay, perhaps I’ve taken a few artistic liberties here and there. But that is unimportant compared to the fact that you’ve been heartlessly stringing me along this whole time!”

“No, I haven’t! Not the whole time, anyway. Listen, that day you lectured me when I was letting the pressure get to me, I…it felt like that was the first time I saw the _real_ L’Arachel.”

The ‘real’ her? Now he just wasn’t making sense. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

He sighed and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his coat. “Look, all those stories _sound_ impressive on paper, but there are so many embelli– artistic liberties that it’s hard to tell what’s real and what’s only there to make you look better. When you dressed me down that day, you weren’t exaggerating some memory – you were speaking from the heart.” He gingerly took hold of her hands, though she was ready to pull back at a moment’s notice. “You showed me who you really are that day, L’Arachel, not who you wanted me to think you are.”

“…And who am I?” She whispered, almost afraid of what his answer would be.

He tightened his grip just enough to give her hands a comforting squeeze. “You’re a passionate, selfless woman who’s more noble and inspiring than I could ever hope to be. You don’t need to make things up, because you’re every bit as wonderful and heroic as you want people to think you are. The L’Arachel who would sacrifice herself to save even one life is who I fell for, not the one who takes on entire armies and walks away without a scratch. I saw how marvelous you are that day, and everyone down in the village saw the same tonight.”

She sniffled and was surprised to find a few tears streaking down her cheeks. “You…you’ve no idea how much it means to hear you say that.” He pulled her closer, and she fell into his embrace and wrapped her arms around him. She hadn’t the faintest idea how long they hugged each other before she regained her composure enough to tease him. “You know, for all your touching words, I have yet to hear anything about my enchantingly good looks.”

She felt his chest rumble as he chuckled. “Well, that’s the one thing you’ve always had going for you. Even back when I didn’t believe in you, I _did_ think you were pretty cute.”

“Hmph!” She pulled back her head to shoot him a mock pout. “I’m much more than ‘pretty cute’. I’ll have you know my beauty is without peer!”

He stared at her for a moment before bellowing out a hearty string of laughter. By the time he was finished, his head was tilted back to the sky. “You know what? That’s fair. You aren’t ‘pretty cute’.” He pulled her tighter against his chest and looked deep into her eyes. “You’re the most stunningly gorgeous woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. And I consider myself the luckiest man in the world to be able to hold you in my arms.”

“As well you should.” She reciprocated the tightness of his grip and rested her head on his shoulder. “Not just any man gets to share a moment like this with the lovely L’Arachel. But then, I suppose I’m an exceptionally lucky woman to be able to embrace you so tenderly.”

In the past, L’Arachel had tended to think herself above romance. After all, she couldn’t very wall inspire hope and adoration across Magvel if she let herself get tied down working out a relationship with someone who could never hope to match her greatness, could she? But this courtship with Kiran would do nothing of the sort – he would be no more ceaseless in his sacred mission than she in hers. Once she had done her part to save Askr, he would doubtless return to Rausten with her so as to help her rid the land of the foul creatures that polluted it before ruling her homeland at her side.

And even ignoring those matters, being held like this just felt so _right_ that she couldn’t imagine herself with anyone else.

* * *

On L’Arachel’s request, they made a formal announcement about the relationship the next day. She wasn’t ashamed to be seen with Kiran and saw a chance for a mutual enhancement to both of their respective legends (even if hers was still a bit lacking compared to his). The Great Hero of Askr and the mythical Light of Magvel (the name was a work in progress) could both use a soulmate to bolster their glory for the future historians and bards.

She basked in the sea of congratulations and well-wishes that followed. Kiran might’ve had a point about not trying so hard to look good, but she would never pass up an opportunity to be the adored center of attention. She must’ve agreed to attend half a dozen different celebrations before all was said and done, to make no mention on the litany of gift suggestions she gave. The forces of darkness wouldn’t purge themselves and so she wouldn’t turn down any generously offered staves or Elfire tomes.

The first notable change was the fact that Kiran now arranged for the two of them to have at least some private time every day, even if his busy schedule sometimes meant that was only fifteen minutes at most. Rather than tell farfetched tales, the two of them mutually exchanged details about themselves or their worlds. Some of the things he told her led to accusations of hypocrisy on his part, since the very idea of large metallic birds that flew without flapping their wings was so bizarre it could only be the result of outlandish exaggeration, but he swore with his hand on his heart that he was telling the truth.

The subject of their respective homelands’ dazzling qualities _should_ have been a more innocuous topic, but it often turned into a never-ending series of one-upmanship. She didn’t care how tropical the beaches of ‘Florida’ or fresh the clams of ‘New England’ were, it wasn’t possible that any of their seafood was superior to Rausten’s. Nor could he make any claim on the superiority of this ‘Mount Rushmore’ without first witnessing the magnificence of Mount Mimir firsthand – as impressive as it sounded to carve faces into stone, Mimir’s lofty peak offered a beauty that was, much like her own, unsurpassable. The fervor of their discussion faded the day they realized that while he would someday see all of Rausten’s wonders, she would never see any of what he described. But they did not waste time lamenting what would never be – they chose instead to focus on the happiness that would lay ahead, regardless of where they were.

As time went on, she also began to notice much subtler changes within herself. While she had always held Kiran’s opinion and attention as superlative, she now found herself progressively unable to care about anyone else at all. Those parties she’d promised to attend had been fun at first, but the final one had felt like an aggravating waste of time more than anything else. Yes, she was fabulous and worthy of their veneration, but now that she actually _had_ it, there didn’t seem much point in indulging them when she could be with Kiran instead.

In a similar vein, her patience increasingly thinned to the extent that she felt a rather ugly animosity towards anybody who got in the way of her and Kiran. What started as exasperation that she had to wait for him to finish a conversation before they could slip away evolved into spiteful hostility at anyone who would dare interrupt their private time together. She was sure Alfonse _thought_ there was pressing business to attend to, just as she was sure it could wait another twenty minutes so Kiran could finish telling her all about the sport of Hockey. If that buffoon didn’t want her to glare at him, maybe he shouldn’t have barged in and ruined the moment.

Of course, Kiran accepted the summons anyway and departed with an apologetic hug. In his absence, L’Arachel’s ire faded and she had the clarity of mind to wonder what just came over her. She’d always had the patience and grace of a saint and wasn’t at all used to nursing such a negative perception of an ally. There was a fleeting moment of discomfort where she contemplated that something could perhaps be wrong with her, but further consideration put that fear to rest. The mere thought that something she felt because of Kiran could be wrong was so absurd she laughed at herself for ever entertaining the idea.

With a little rumination, it became obvious that what she felt was nothing more than the natural conclusion of the rapport that had been building since Kiran and her first met each other. Their virtue and purity were unparalleled, which, harsh as it sounded, meant they were simply superior to everyone else in the Order. When the two of them interacted, they mutually furthered each other’s growth and became greater than they ever could’ve been on their own. But the other heroes, spiritually inferior as they were, could only drag either of them down if allowed to run around unchecked. Why _wouldn’t_ she resent Alfonse or those partygoers for having a negative influence on the two of them? After all, Kiran had explicitly told her that everyone else was beneath her when he confessed, had he not? She thought he was just being romantic at that time, but now it was clear that he had seen this truth all along.

Once that conclusion had been reached, she decided the only reasonable course of action was to shun contact with the other Heroes and prioritize spending time with Kiran above all else. With the two of them working together, it would only be a matter of time before this dreadful Embla business was dealt with and they could return to Rausten. That goal was all that really mattered; through its accomplishment, she would achieve such prestige that ballads of her and Kiran’s heroism would be sung throughout all the worlds. Neither she nor Kiran needed to risk any poisonous friendships with the rest of the Order to do that, though Kiran’s position meant interaction with them would be necessary. Still, she was content to just minimize their contact with the Heroes whenever possible and make the most of what she and Kiran shared.

Roughly a month passed before an incident occurred that made her realize the situation was far more dire than she first thought.

The Order had been given the task of halting an Emblian advance through the Fýri Forest, which necessitated a rather large task force. Some fifty odd Heroes were assembled from a multitude of skillsets, with a handful of other healers among them. L’Arachel didn’t bat an eye at that, the troops needed their injuries tended to, but she did have an understanding that they would leave healing Kiran to her.

Well, the battle started off without a hitch and it wasn’t long before Kiran’s strategy began to be carried out just as he intended. She stayed in the back both to protect Kiran and to heal anyone with wounds too egregious to risk mending near the front lines. Consequently, that gave her a hitherto rare wider view of the battlefield and made her the only combat capable one with said view. So, when they noticed the western flank being pressured and the eastern flank having a suspiciously easy time of things, it was quickly decided that she would heroically charge into the fray while Kiran organized the redeployment of their less busy comrades.

She didn’t do anything all that impressive, at least not by her usual standards. She sent a searing blast of holy light through the skull of some lancer the second before he could gore that one dancing Nohrian (Lazald or something), but that was practically par for the course at that point. She healed wounds and delivered divine retribution all around before reinforcement turned the tide back in their favor. From there, the rest of the fighting would basically be a formality, so she considered her work done and returned to her lover’s side.

Only to see Princess Sakura waving her festal and closing up a cut on Kiran’s leg.

By her nature, L’Arachel was an optimistic woman. She wanted to see the bright side of life, and while she recently discovered she wasn’t above resenting other people, she still had the courtesy to know that their shortcomings weren’t really their own fault. She believed that most people at least set out trying to do good, and even if they faltered on the actual execution, she wouldn’t be so petty as to ignore the spirit of their deeds. As such, she had always been willing to give credit where credit was due and acknowledge noble intent even when the resulting actions rubbed her the wrong way.

At least until she found herself wishing Sakura would spontaneously be dragged down to the blackest pit of Hell to suffer for all eternity.

The brat ran off before L’Arachel could send her there herself and thus left Rausten’s princess to do little but check over Kiran too and internally seethe with rage. Said rage admittedly simmered down the longer she held Kiran’s hand while they watched the carnage, but it never quite entirely faded. She had to be fair and reserve just a little for herself, since she hadn’t been there to protect Kiran when he needed her – apparently, some archer made a suicide run to get a shot off at him. The injury wasn’t remotely threatening, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t failed in her responsibility.

When the battle was inevitably won and the task force returned to the castle, L’Arachel was given ample time alone in her room to consider what, exactly, had set her off about seeing Sakura heal Kiran. She was _not_ so shallow that her fury was the product of something as base as mere jealousy. Yes, Kiran was _hers_ , but she was not insecure about that fact whatsoever! But then what was the problem? Had there been something off about the technique that made her think Sakura was potentially doing more harm than good? She might’ve decided on that line of thinking had she known the first thing about Hoshidian festals, let alone whether or not one was being used properly. There had just been _something_ about the sight that made her feel like it was fundamentally wrong on every level. She’d reacted to it by feeling unbridled revulsion down to the very fiber of her being for gods’ sakes. The instinctive disgust she felt when facing down one of Magvel’s monsters was just about the only point of comparison she could–

L’Arachel gasped, her eyes wide with both enlightenment and horror. _Of **course**! That’s it! It’s so simple, how did I not realize it sooner?_ She was too graceful and kind to be capable of feeling such loathing for anything human, which logically meant that Sakura wasn’t human at all. That girl was no innocent shrine maiden – she was some manner of fiend disguising itself as one!

It would almost be too terrible to consider were it not the only explanation. L’Arachel kicked herself for not noticing that abomination’s true nature until now, though she did wonder why it had taken so long for her to figure it out. _Well, it was obviously doing something that enabled my blessed senses to detect its devilry._ She reasoned. _So then what would cause it to suddenly become active now?_ Kiran was the key – she had been tipped off by watching Sakura (if that was even its real name) ‘heal’ him. She could think of plenty of reasons for a demon to target Kiran; what she couldn’t understand was why it had waited so long to make a move.

She just needed to consider every angle to the problem. Clearly, Kiran was chosen as the mark because of his unfailing virtue, divine providence and destined purpose. Sakura was intelligent enough that it could feign humanity for an extended period of time with nobody noticing. Hence, it was not the usual kind of beast from Magvel that simply spread misery on instinct and was only targeting Kiran because he was the noblest person around. It must’ve had some specific purpose it was working towards, but _what_? What had changed recently that would suddenly force its hand…

She was struck by another bolt of wisdom that brought clarity to her confusion. Once again, the truth was so obvious she couldn’t help but feel foolish for taking so long to see it. _She_ was the answer – she and Kiran had recently engaged in courtship and revealed that fact to the entire Order! Their virtues independently were greater than anyone else’s; the possibility of them combining had inspired such terror in Sakura that it thought it necessary to take action. The last missing piece of the puzzle was what exactly Sakura was afraid of. It was from Hoshido, so what did it care about the good their union spread beyond a general anathema to such things? It just didn’t seem like it was worth the risk or effort to stifle something that would never get beyond Askr or Magvel.

…Unless it _wouldn’t_ be localized to those two worlds? Was it possible that fiend was worried that her and Kiran’s love was the herald of something grand for all of creation, not just their respective lands? It had to have some idea of who they were from within Hoshido, which meant their influence had to have unwittingly spread there at some point. _He_ was the Great Hero foretold in legend and _she_ was the most noble, valiant soul to ever grace the face of Magvel…but what if they hadn’t always been like that? Fate had brought their hearts together once in Askr, but who was to say they hadn’t been joined in holy matrimony in different lives?

It made perfect sense the more she thought about it – the joining of such pure hearts wasn’t the kind of thing that happened by accident. The gods may very well have ordained a reunion of their souls after some catastrophe saw them separated. For all she knew, Kiran was the reincarnation of Latona himself and destiny was doing all it could to return him to his rightful place on Rausten’s throne, or perhaps they had both been some other fabled heroes in a different life. Whatever they were, Kiran’s summoning abilities in this lifetime made it a certainty that their sacred mission could be spread to any number of worlds even if he’d been constrained in his previous incarnation. Sakura must’ve feared the hallow retribution that would surely strike it down if the two of them were allowed to fulfill their ordained purpose and was trying to deal with Kiran before that came to pass.

Which brought her back to the start of the problem, though she now had the clarity to know what needed to be done. First, she needed to smite that wretched blight as soon as possible before it could do any more damage. Second, she needed to find some way to ensure she and Kiran couldn’t be separated again in case something went wrong – she didn’t know how long it had taken their souls to find each other again, but she needed to minimize any delays in further reincarnation. Third, both tasks needed to be accomplished on her own and with no delay. She couldn’t say for sure what kind of taint Sakura had sullied Kiran with or what it might do if she enlisted his aid. Once Sakura’s filth had been cleansed, L’Arachel could freely expunge its pollution without fear of reprisal.

In all her days, she had never beheld a devil so insidious as this. But she would not shy from her solemn duty, no matter dire the fiend. For as long as she lived, she would always carry on her parents’ work: evil _must_ be purged wherever it appeared.

* * *

Dealing with Sakura took more finesse than L’Arachel was used to. Normally, she just blasted whatever monster reared its ugly head with holy magic the second she saw it and that was that. But _this_ monster had everyone fooled with its charade and could very well have had incognito allies waiting to help it. She decided the best approach was to play to its necessity to stick to its role: she gave it a letter asking for its help collecting reagents in one of Askr’s more treacherous forests. She stressed the importance of secrecy so as to avoid worrying anybody – Sakura always acted helpful and submissive, so if it wanted to maintain its cover, it would have to accept the terms L’Arachel put forward. She was taking a gamble, since Sakura would doubtless see the excursion as a golden opportunity to get rid of her, but she had confidence in the holy hands that guided her.

While she waited for a reply, she set about looking for a way to keep Kiran and her together even after their souls moved on. After practically a full day buried in books in the library, she found exactly what she was looking for. True, the book she found the ritual in _said_ it was a tome of dark magic, but that obviously only applied when one used it for impure ends (which tragically included everyone except her and Kiran). In _her_ unstained hands, any and all magic would only be capable of doing extraordinary good, so there was nothing to be worried about.

Sakura took another day to give its fully anticipated acceptance, which L’Arachel decided to spend gathering materials for her ritual (even though a few polite requests to Henry were all it took to procure them). It did put on a show of anxiety that something could go wrong and that they should maybe bring someone else (doubtless one of its fellow unholy abominations), but she made a proclamation of the divine protection that would _surely_ grace two holy women and forced its hand. They departed between the changing of the guards on the morrow, ensuring nobody was any the wiser about what was going on.

Sakura maintained its taciturn nature on the way to the Myrkviðr Wood, which suited L’Arachel just fine. It was disgusting to even _look_ at that horrid beast – hearing it feign cutesy timidness would be too much for her to bear. For the sake of lulling it into a false sense of security, she bragged about some of her old tales the way it would expect her to. When they finally breached the forest proper, it decided the time was right to speak up.

“Um, L’Arachel, w-what exactly is it we’re looking for? You said we could find medicinal plants out here, b-but I’ve never heard anyone else from Magvel mention anything like that.”

_Yes, I’ve no doubt you did your research on all of us to probe for weaknesses._ “Worry not, Princess Sakura! You need only keep your bow at the ready in case we are beset by the dread inhabitants of Myrkviðr. Allow me to worry about collecting what we need.” Subtly, she wrapped her hand around the Ellight tome stored in her satchel as they walked farther.

“A-about that,” it pretended to nervously strum the string of its bow, “is this forest as dangerous as people say? I mean, P-Prince Alfonse said the name translated to ‘dark wood’ or something awful like that.”

_We’ve gone far enough._ She decided. _It’s too far away to call for help now._ “Oh, you know how worrisome the prince can be.” She stopped and let Sakura walk a bit ahead. “I’ve always put more stock into Princess Sharena’s words.”

“Well, I g-guess that’s true,” while its back was turned, L’Arachel flipped open her tome and prepared a bolt of searing light, “but still, don’t you think we should be a little warier of anything that might be out there?”

“Don’t you worry.” L’Arachel said, all warmth and dramatic weight gone from her voice. “I’m perfectly wary.”

She fired her spell just as Sakura turned around in confusion at her shift in tone. The creature managed to twist to the side just before impact, causing her attack to merely burn a hole through a kidney instead of its chest. With a cry of pain, it fell to the ground and began pressing its hands to the bleeding cavity in its torso.

“Aargh!” It gasped as a spasm wracked its body. “L’Arachel, w-what are you doing?!”

She stepped up and kicked away its bow, leaving it defenseless – that blast of holy might ought to have kept it from transforming anytime soon. “You wretched, festering abomination! Did you think I’d be so blind as to not notice your foul play right in front of me? Or perhaps you hoped I was still pre-occupied with the battle?”

“L’Arachel, p-please, I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Yes, I’m sure you don’t.” She sneered and shot another bolt of Ellight into its right shoulder. “You don’t have to pretend anymore, you know. I’ve sniffed out your little game, so you might as well die as yourself.”

Annoyingly, it was so pathetic that it tried to double down by producing a slew of crocodile tears. “Please, s-stop! You know me, L’Arachel! W-we heal Heroes together! We’ve joined the other priestesses in prayer before!”

“ _SHUT UP!_ ” A third blast was fired into its left kneecap. “How _dare_ you?! You unholy, deplorable hell spawn! Even with the atrocities you’ve already committed, you would be so shameless as to profane my noble profession?! I was _going_ to just strike you down with holy light until you finally perished, but I can see that will be insufficient.” She put her Ellight tome back in the satchel and withdrew the Elfire she’d been so generously gifted by Lilina. “You have made a mockery of all that is just, and for that sin there can be only one suitable punishment.”

“R-Ryoma…” It blubbered as blood began to pool beneath it. “Corrin…somebody, anybody…please h-help me…”

“I take it those are your fellow demons wreathed in human skin? Though it will not absolve you of your crimes, you have my thanks for giving me my next targets.”

Its head snapped towards her, eyes wide with fear. “N-no, you can’t! Please, I beg of you, leave them alone!”

A barely stable ball of fire now hovered over her tome, its glow reflecting in her eyes. “I imagine you _would_ be averse to seeing your co-conspirators follow you into Hell and thus ruining your foul plans. Unfortunately for you,” she glared at Sakura with all the righteous fury she could muster, “it’s not in my nature to countenance evil.” She flicked her hand, sending the broiling mass of flame to engulf its target.

The excruciated screams that followed made L’Arachel glad she’d gone so out of her way to get Sakura off by itself. “That pain is your penance. As you sought to undo the sanctity and beauty of Kiran and I’s love, so you shall be undone by these cleansing flames.” Actually, L’Arachel had never pinned down what, exactly, Sakura had been trying to do that day, but it obviously didn’t matter. The taint that had infected the Order had now begun to be purged. The fact that other Hoshidians were fiends as well was disconcerting, but she wasn’t afraid to deal with them.

The screams continued, sometimes with a futile plea for mercy or help thrown in, for several minutes before they began to die down. It likely would’ve been much shorter had Sakura not had resistance to magic, but that was the best part – it had played at being a holy woman, so it was only fitting that that ruse made its death all the more painful. At last, the wails of agony stopped and the flames died with them, leaving only a charred husk in its place. At last, Sakura’s body was every bit as black as its soul, assuming it even had one. Out of spite, she kicked the scorched remains of its skull, sending a spray of ash and charcoal like bone in the process. As a final measure, she torched its bow and the festal she’d dropped, ensuring there would be no trace of it once the wind and rain swept away the remains.

With head held high, she recomposed herself and marched off back the way she came. She had done her parents proud this day, probably more so than any of the monsters she’d crushed in Magvel. Sakura had not merely been a threat; it was an affront to the very idea of morality. In expunging its filth, she had truly lived up to their example to a never-before-seen level.

* * *

Now that Sakura had been dealt with and its influence eradicated, there was only the matter of making sure she and Kiran would forever be connected. Nobody gave her a second glance as she returned to the castle, so she immediately gathered up the necessary materials for the ritual and made for Kiran’s office.

She threw open the door without a knock, earning his attention straight away. His shock quickly gave way to relief and he wasted no time rushing over to wrap her in his arms. “There you are! Where have you _been_ the past few days? I’ve been worried sick, L’Arachel! I was starting to wonder if I’d done something to make you mad at me.”

She eagerly reciprocated the hug, a jubilant smile on her face. “Oh, perish the thought! I’ve merely been busy, that’s all. But my work is almost finished, and I can’t wait to tell you about it!”

They let each other go but still kept a gentle grip on each other’s hands. “‘Almost’? What have you been doing and why didn’t you wait until it was all done?”

“Because you’re the final step!” She dug into her satchel and pulled out all that she needed. “Give me a few moments to set up and I’ll strengthen our love far beyond what it was before!”

He blinked in surprise but nodded all the same. “Um, alright, I guess. You’re the magically inclined one, so I’ll just let you do your thing.”

“Marvelous!” He backed up to the corner while she began drawing the sigil she memorized into the rug. She could feel his curious gaze on her as she worked, especially once she began placing the components into their appropriate places. At the center of it all was a bowl filled with a powder made up of many ground-up reagents. Once all was done, she brandished the ceremonial dagger Henry had been thoughtful enough to throw in. “Now, don’t be alarmed, but I’ll need you to stand in the symbol with me and let me draw a little blood.”

He blanched and warily looked at her, his feet not moving an inch. “…Are you sure about this, L’Arachel? This _really_ doesn’t look like your usual work. It looks like the kind of thing Eremiya would whip up, and you and she are very different kinds of priestesses.”

“Of course I’m sure! In all our time together, when have you ever witnessed me falter in my convictions? I guarantee you, this is both perfectly safe _and_ desirable.” Now, for the final push. “Could it be that you…don’t trust me?”

Sure enough, that did the trick, getting him to walk over to her. “Of course I trust you. I guess I’m just a little scared of what I don’t understand. But if you say it’s fine, then that means it’s fine.” He held out the palm of his hand. “But, you know, try not to make it hurt.”

“I assure you, your pain is the absolute last thing I desire.” She lightly dragged the dagger across his palm, drawing a trickle of blood that he let spill into the powdered mixture. She followed suit, combining both of their essences into one. She held his hands once more and met his gaze to offer silent reassurance. Once the apprehension faded from his eyes, she shut hers and began to recite the incantation to start the process. There was no pain or discomfort as the ritual proceeded – there was only the rejuvenating warmth of feeling her love with Kiran grow even stronger than before.

When all was said and done, there was no outward change to either of them, but she could _feel_ the connection that now eternally bound them together. “Whoa…” He gasped, rapidly blinking. “What _was_ that? What did you just do?”

“First, I must explain what else I’ve been up to lately. I take no artistic liberties when I say have carried out an undertaking more heroic than any before it and that I may very well have saved us both in doing so.”

He flinched back in shock, his face now set in its usual professional concern when assessing threats. “Are you serious? What the hell could’ve been so bad that it was that dangerous and how did you deal with it singlehandedly?”

She gripped his shoulders and matched his seriousness. “Though it may pain you to hear this, it is the truth of the matter: Sakura was a monster pretending to be human!”

“ _What?!_ ” He exclaimed, his eyes wider than she’d ever seen them. “T-that’s, I don’t – I mean, how could you even figure that out? _When_ did you figure that out?”

“My instincts have been honed by a lifetime of loyal service to the righteous heavens. When I saw it healing you a few days ago at Fýri Forest, I was immediately beset by a most dreadful feeling. I recognized it as the disgust I felt whenever confronting one of Magvel’s foul creatures and set out at once to stop its nefarious schemes!”

He didn’t respond at first, doubtless stunned by the horror that had been lurking right under his nose. “L’Arachel,” he began after a few moments, “what _proof_ do you have of this? How do you know for absolute certain that Sakura is what you say she is?”

“Hmph!” She wore a proud grin. “A holy woman’s hunch is all the proof you need when it comes to identifying evil! You need not concern yourself about Sakura any longer – I’ve just returned from taking care of the matter personally.”

To her surprise, he went white as a sheet and gripped her arms with unusual fierceness. “L’Arachel, _what did you do?_ ”

Her aura of pride only strengthened as she told him, “I’ve made the monstrosity pay penitence by purifying it in the exorcising flames of my Elfire tome. I imagine its ashes have been scattered to the wind by now. I have to give it credit: it maintained its charade all the way to the end.”

He did not begin praising her to the high heavens as she expected. Rather, he stared more or less through her and began backing up, his mouth agape. “Oh my God…” he uttered and reached out to grab his desk for support while the other hand began running through his hair. “Oh my God…”

_Ah, he’s just having difficulty taking it all in._ She realized. _Goodness knows I was just as distraught when I realized what Sakura was._ “Come now, Kiran, you’re stronger than this. Remember what you told me when you confessed: we have to be willing to strike down anyone in our quest to bring justice to the world, even those we think to be friends. As you said, we can’t let ourselves be held back when doing what needs to be done.”

That got his attention again, though not in quite the way she hoped. “Wha– I never said anything like that!”

“Yes, of course you didn’t.” She rolled her eyes in bemusement; honestly, she thought they were past the point of tests like this. “I think I’d remember that the love of my life told me the night he confessed.”

“What the hell are you –” He’d begun stepping forward and accidentally knocked over one of the spent ritual materials. He ducked his head to look at it and was once again stunned into silence when he pulled his head back up. “L’Arachel,” he addressed with unusual stillness, “what was that ritual for? What have you done to me?”

“Oh yes, I’d almost forgot! Well, in the process of deducing Sakura’s true nature, I _also_ realized that this is not the first time we’ve fallen in love – our souls have been intwined in mutual passion over countless lifetimes!”

“…What?”

She giggled at the dumbfounded tone of his voice. “I know, I could hardly believe it either! This ritual has ensured that there won’t be any complications when we next reincarnate and that none of those fiends’ plans to separate us will ever come to fruition. Oh, by the way, Corrin and Ryoma at least are also monsters disguising themselves as human, so we’ll have to deal with them shortly too.”

“L’Arachel!” He urgently cut in. “What did your ritual do?!”

“It’s actually pretty simple. First, our lives are now linked so that if one of us dies, the other will immediately die as well. That way, our souls are guaranteed to be reincarnated at the same time. Second, in the event that some manner of creature manages to indefinitely separate us, I can activate the bond on my end to kill us both and make sure we don’t have to suffer through an entire lifetime apart from each other. I obviously can’t _test_ it, but I should be do it just by thinking, so even if they lock me up and bind my limbs, they won’t be able to keep us apart! I imagine that would especially come in handy in case the demons that have infiltrated the Order manage to convince the others to turn on us.”

He had no words for her revelation. She couldn’t blame him; if she were in his shoes, she’d probably stand there in shock as well. But even if he was struggling to come to terms with it all, that didn’t mean he couldn’t do with a hug! “This is the start of something beautiful, Kiran.” She assured him as she nuzzled their cheeks together. “Together, we will see all manner of evil driven from the land in this life and beyond even that.”

As she stood there embracing her slack jawed lover, she realized that she had accomplished her initial goal all those many months ago: she had finally told him a tale so galvanizing and incredible that he was left speechless at her splendor!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s all fun and games until L’Arachel starts burning people alive because she thinks they’re secretly shapeshifting Skinwalkers.
> 
> L’Arachel was a Delusional Type Yandere, meaning she completely loses her grip on reality and tells herself all kinds of nonsense to justify the things she does. Normal yandere just resolve to stab a bitch and be done with it, but L’Arachel’s massive ego can’t handle the cognitive dissonance of being that violently petty, so she goes nuttier than a Payday bar and does all kinds of mental gymnastics to keep her already kind of deluded world view intact, including creating false memories to feed the narrative.
> 
> And okay, I lied about Journey Through Pressure being the next thing I upload. I’m working on it, I swear, I just couldn’t fight the urge to indulge my yandere kick some more. Next L’Amour Detruit is already half written, so I’ll upload that next, and then I promise I’ll focus on Journey Through Pressure.
> 
> Speaking of, the next L’Amour Detruit chapter will be from Kiran’s point of view and will really show why this fic is tagged as horror. So, uh, strap in for that, because the poor bastard's going to go through the wringer.
> 
> Please leave comments, good or bad, since your feedback is how I learn. Thank you for reading.


	4. Caeda - Monopolizing Type

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains more graphic depictions of violence than has been seen in the preceding chapters. Reader discretion is advised.

* * *

_Be careful what you wish for_

* * *

Kiran liked to think he tended to come up with good ideas. He’d been the head tactician of the Order for over a year now and managed to maintain a zero-fatality record of its members in that time, so he figured he must’ve been doing something right. Whenever he got some new idea stuck in his head, most of the time he was sure there was a way to make it work with some tweaking here and there.

This was not one of those times.

He figured he was going to develop a crush on one of the female heroes at some point or another. After all, nearly every one of them was unnaturally beautiful and most had personalities just as attractive as their physical attributes. And since everyone seemed to like him, he also figured it wouldn’t be out of the question to at least try courting whomever caught his eye. Really, what was liable to go wrong beyond a gentle rejection?

At least, that was what he’d thought before he was stupid enough to fall for one of the few women in the Order who was already taken.

In all fairness, it wasn’t _his_ fault that Princess Caeda of Talys was the most gorgeous, kind, dependable woman he’d ever met. Nor was it his fault that she belonged to the list of women who arrived to Askr already married or betrothed to someone else (a group, he ruefully noted, whose membership could be counted on one hand). But God _damn_ did he constantly want to kick himself for carrying a flame for one of the few women who would forever be out of his reach. And he’d been carrying that flame from the moment she appeared at the summoning shrine. Love at first sight was a beautiful thing, except for those times when it was totally one sided.

It wasn’t like he resented Marth or anything – the Altean Prince had been one the Order’s most reliable heroes and a good friend to Kiran. Sure, it hurt more than he cared to admit to see Marth embrace his fiancé shortly after she arrived at the castle, but he wasn’t petty enough to blame Marth for that. Especially when the prince went out of his way to get a friendship going between Kiran and Caeda by finding mutually enjoyable activities in which to involve the both of them.

Nor could he see any point in biting the bullet and telling Caeda how he felt anyway. Or, to put it another way, he couldn’t find the courage to do it. He wanted to believe that he’d have the stones to make a confession to anyone else, just so long as he thought there was any chance of success. What would confessing to Caeda accomplish beyond making things awkward between them when he knew she’d have to let him down anyway? Maybe it was cowardly, but he’d rather have a friendship afflicted by a one-sided crush than no kind of relationship at all.

Of course, that was easier to tell himself some times more than others. In particular, the bridal festival he’d been forced to attend had been both a blessing and curse. On the one hand, Caeda looked absolutely radiant in her wedding gown. The light lilac flowers in her hair provided just enough disparity to bring out her shimmering eyes, to say nothing of how beautifully the red ribbon around her waist contrasted with her cobalt locks. And she had the face of an angel as she held the bouquet in front of her chest, her lips pulled up into a wonderfully euphoric smile.

On the other hand, the sight of her holding Marth’s hand as they descended the steps of the cathedral hosting the festival made him want to curl up and die somewhere. It might not have been so bad if he didn’t have to do the duty of standing in the path of all the ‘grooms’ and ‘brides’ to wish them luck in their romantic endeavors. That wasn’t very hard when speaking to an embarrassed Tanith or a shy Ninian, for whom a cheeky grin easily grew on his face. But he had to force himself to smile for the Archanean couple and hope he didn’t give any outward indication of how pained his chest was.

That one interaction permanently soured his mood, and once the ceremony was finished, he slinked off to some secluded corner of the town while everyone else reveled in the festivities proper. He knew what a petulant child he was being, sulking off by himself because of some unrequited love, but he’d rather brood alone than fail faking merriment in a crowd where someone would inevitably ask what was wrong. He thought it was a decent plan to kill the day, but he should’ve remembered the one lesson he’d learned above all else as the Order’s tactician: no plan ever goes off without a hitch.

“Kiran?”

He practically jumped out of his skin at suddenly being addressed out of nowhere, and his heart started beating even faster when he realized who it was that called his name. “C-Caeda!” He cursed the stutter in his voice even as he tried to control his blush at being alone with the apple of his eye. “What are you doing all the way out here? Shouldn’t you be enjoying the festival with everyone else?”

“I believe I’m the one who should be asking you that.” She frowned and started moving towards him, her pristine dress somehow never picking up a single speck of dirt. “I…noticed a look in your eye when you wished Marth and I a happy marriage together. It was a look I last saw in Marth during the war: the one where you try to pretend everything’s okay, even though you’re suffering inside.”

 _Damn, she’s perceptive…_ And she was such a sweetheart to boot. He could practically feel the concern pouring off of her even after he ducked his head to avoid looking at her. “Aw, don’t worry about it. I’m just stressed out from work, that’s all. Give me a few days and I’ll be over it.”

She wouldn’t be waved off that easily and came even closer, to the point it was less awkward to meet her worried gaze than to try and ignore it when she was right in front of his face. “Do you have someone special out there, Kiran?”

 _You_. Thankfully, he had enough self-control to not blurt out the first thing that popped into his head. But he also took so much time to clamp down on that thought that he couldn’t give her any kind of deflecting answer and did nothing but glance to the side. “…I see.” He looked back to see her staring into her bouquet with lidded eyes. “I feel you’re due an apology – it must’ve been unbearable to wish loving futures to so many with no confidence in your own. I sometimes forget that not everyone is equally blessed with love’s embrace.”

“…Don’t worry about it, Caeda.” He repeated his earlier words, though they were lacking in any casual bravado this time around. “It’s not your fault. Lots of people are like me, and it’s not like we’re defined by whether we end up with someone or not.”

“That’s true, but still…” An awkward silence stretched between them, neither one sure what to say. The pause was broken when she suddenly thrust her bouquet into his hands. “They say that whoever receives the bride’s bouquet will be blessed with success in their romantic endeavors, right? Then I hope this will do some good – you deserve at least that much.”

God, she was so perfect that he had to fight to keep tears from flowing. Even _if_ that old folk legend sent someone his way, he doubted he’d be able to help comparing them to her. “Isn’t the tradition supposed to be that you throw it into a crowd? I’m not sure it’ll work if you do it like this.”

“Is that so?” She flashed him a warm smile. “Then just consider this a token of my wish to see your eyes light up with love’s bliss, not darken with solitude’s sorrow. Tradition or no, I hope that you find lifelong happiness.”

“Thank you, Caeda. This…means a lot to me. More than you realize.” Bittersweet as her gift was, he couldn’t resist smiling at such a heartfelt gesture, though he still had to hold himself back from trying to hug her. “Speaking of tradition, I’ve been wondering something about this festival: it’s not a problem for the bachelors and bachelorettes, but aren’t couples supposed to not see each other in wedding attire before their marriage ceremony?”

“I’ve heard that before too, but I don’t believe it applies to Marth and I. Strictly speaking, he’s not _my_ Marth and I’m not _his_ Caeda. We’re more or less the same people and are thus naturally drawn to each other, but the man I’m engaged to has never been to Askr.”

Even though the subject matter had shifted to her love life, Kiran was making the most of having a private moment with Caeda. “You ever going to tell him about all this? My parents always said the key to a successful relationship is being honest with your partner.”

She took a moment to consider his question, her index finger resting on her chin. “…No, I don’t believe I will. For my part, I’ve heard the secret to a happy marriage is consideration. You know, showing your partner that you care. I don’t need to tell him about my time here to do that. Besides, what would personally make me happiest is knowing that the man I love is safe and sound. So long as I had that, I could do anything to make the relationship work.”

“I guess that’s as fair a way of looking at it as any.” He shrugged and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “It’s not like there’s some foolproof recipe for a perfect marriage.”

“I’ll bet everyone has a different idea of how to make it work. But most people keep their thoughts to themselves.” She giggled and reached out to grab his hand that held the bouquet, sending a flare of heat to his cheeks in the process. “The fact that we’ve shared our beliefs with each other will be our little secret, okay?”

“Y-yeah, sure.” This was getting dangerous – Caeda probably thought she was just being playful and friendly, but she was sending all kinds of signals that he knew would make him say or do something he’d regret if things kept going on like this for much longer. “You know, the others are probably wondering where the both of us are. We should probably head back before anyone gets too worried.”

She held onto him a second longer than he imagined she would, an indecipherable look in her eyes before she let go. “Of course, if that’s what you want.” She waited until he began moving to fall in step with him, the same tender smile never leaving her face. They made their way back to the crowds, exchanging pleasant small talk all the while. Every step of the way, Kiran had to resist the urge to reach out and hold her hand.

* * *

He didn’t think it was possible, but Kiran fell even more in love with Caeda after the bridal festival. Rationally speaking, he really should’ve come up with some excuse to get away from her the second she appeared. If he had stymied as many interactions with her has he could, his infatuation may have faded with time. Unfortunately, that ship sailed the moment she gave him her bouquet – from that point on, he couldn’t have bore to stay apart from her even if he wanted to. He knew it would only make things worse in the long run, but now he was so enamored with Caeda that he took any chance to spend time with her.

Over the next couple months, that took a number of forms: overseeing the training of the pegasus knights, putting her on the ace team he personally commanded, inviting her to strategy meetings, and so on. He was careful not to overstep his bounds or abuse his influence – the instant she or Marth gave the smallest inkling they were uncomfortable with his presence, he resolved to cut himself off and reduce all interactions with her to the bare minimum. He knew it wasn’t healthy for him to be this attached to her (and could even admit to himself it was fairly creepy), and understood it was going to make saying goodbye someday all the more painful, but the way she beamed at him every time they talked made it impossible to wean himself off her when she seemed to enjoy his friendship as much as she did.

On the rare occasion that he hung out with both Marth and Caeda, he was wracked with guilt. It was one thing to desire Caeda when it was just the two of them, but he felt like such a piece of shit when Marth was there and reminding Kiran of how great a guy the prince was. To say nothing of how much of a third wheel he was, even when they explicitly invited him. One such occasion was a tea party Marth organized when he saw Kiran and felt he was chafing under the weight of his responsibilities. “I’ve always found that a cup of my favorite brew and a few sweets can do wonders for one’s mood,” he’d said with a friendly grin.

Kiran couldn’t disagree, and as such found himself awkwardly sitting around a table with the two lovebirds. Apparently, Minerva and Tiki were invited as well, but the former was busy fixing what she saw as a pressing disciplinary issue with the wyvern riders and the latter had already had a playdate scheduled with Fae and Nowi.

“In all honesty, I only half expected Princess Minerva to accept my invitation.” Marth admitted after a sip. “She always has been one for work over relaxation. Even if there wasn’t urgent business to attend to, she’s so diligent that I imagine she’d be more uncomfortable doing nothing than looking for more tasks to complete.”

“I don’t blame her.” Kiran defended the Macedonian, though he knew there was no ill will in Marth’s assessment. “It’s bad enough having to be productive for people – if _I_ had to ride that wyvern on top of everything else I do, I’d feel like I had to prove myself by constantly getting things done too.” He downed half his cup and shook his head. “Seriously, man, how does she or anyone else work with those things?”

“They’re not all that different from pegasi, believe it or not.” Caeda answered, a crumpet in her hand. “I actually experimented with riding one near the end of the War of Shadows. I prefer my pegasus, obviously, but its not like you have to constantly be paranoid your wyvern will try to eat you.”

“You’ve no wyverns where you’re from, correct?” Marth asked with a raised eyebrow. “I suppose anyone would be especially apprehensive about them if they were totally unfamiliar. Caeda, you’d only heard of wyverns in Talys and never seen one, right? Were you particularly frightened when we first ran afoul of them in battle?”

She finished the tea in her cup and began to pour it back to full. But she did not give Marth an answer as she did so – she kept her attention fixed on the summoner. “Kiran, didn’t you once mention something about steel machines in your world that could soar the skies?” He couldn’t help but frown at the unusual non sequitur, but nodded his head all the same. In response, Caeda shook hers. “I don’t think I could ever get used to that. When I’m riding my pegasus, I’m in tune with her senses and feelings. That harmony is part of what gives me the confidence to leave the ground behind. I doubt I could muster that courage if all I had was cold, insensitive metal to guide me.”

“It’s the total opposite for me and probably everyone else back home. If I’m going to ascend to lethal heights, I’d like to have a little more supporting me than a leather saddle and reins. At least in a plane you’re fully surrounded, either by the cockpit if you’re flying or the fuselage if you’re just riding.”

Marth chuckled and, from the corner of his vision, he could’ve sworn he saw Caeda’s eye twitch a fraction of an inch. “I can’t say I can fully envision what you’re describing, but I agree with the sentiment. I can brave the skies if I’m riding with Caeda, and I once rode with Minerva when we were rescuing Maria and time was of the essence, but in general I’m afraid I just don’t have the heart to ride the wind on a mount. I imagine I would have an easier time of it were I flying from inside a carriage and I didn’t have to feel the air rushing past me or see the ground distant from my feet.”

Kiran raised his cup in a toast. “Cheers to that, my man.” Marth raised his own cup in return and the two drank simultaneously. Moments like this reassured Kiran that he did indeed have a genuine friendship with Marth, that they had more in common than the woman they loved. “I’ve flown before, but I guarantee you I’d have freaked out if I my first time was on a pegasus. How did you keep from losing your lunch because of nerves?”

Marth laughed more heartily than before. “If I recall correctly, by the skin of my teeth. I wasn’t even ten years old when I asked to ride with a Macedonian pegasus knight who’d come to deliver a draft for a trade treaty. It was a harmless request, so father–”

He was interrupted by the sound of breaking porcelain. They both turned to see Caeda bashfully smiling, a shattered cup sitting in puddle of tea before her. “Goodness, I’m so sorry about that! I’m usually much more careful. I suppose I just got entranced in the discussion.”

“It’s no trouble at all, Caeda.” Marth assured her and got up to use his cloth napkin to wipe away the spill. “These sorts of mishaps happen to everyone from time to time.” While he cleaned up the mess, Caeda never once seemed to acknowledge him – she just kept smiling at Kiran. He mostly felt flattered to have her attention on him, but couldn’t deny a niggling feeling that something about her expression was somehow…off.

“Ah, thank you, Marth.” The minor sensation passed once she thanked her fiancé and they resumed conversation, this time leading with a question from Caeda about what kinds of food people ate on Earth. The tea party continued for another hour or so, with Caeda always ensuring they never lingered on any one topic for too long. They said their farewells and Kiran found himself just as in love with Caeda as always – he barely even remembered that odd mood when she broke her teacup. He at least left feeling a little closer with Marth and hoped that friendship might one day pave the way for him to get over his toxic, unreciprocated love.

Roughly a week passed before he returned to his office after lunch to find a folded letter waiting on his desk. He picked it up with a raised eyebrow – the parchment was much nicer than the war reports he usually returned to and he never got any other kind of correspondence. He briefly thought it might’ve been a prank letter from Lissa or Morgan pretending to be one of his family members or something, but one look at the excellent calligraphy within dispelled that theory.

_Dearest Kiran,_

_I trust you’ve been well? I had a wonderful time enjoying tea together several days ago. It was so delightful that I still find myself recounting the experience as I drift to sleep. If you’re available, would you mind joining me in the pegasus stables? I’ve prepared a picnic for the two of us to relish and I figured it’s about time I introduce you to the wonders of pegasus flight._

_I hope you’ll forgive my delivering this request in writing. I’d like to say it’s solely because I’m busy putting the final touches on the excursion, but I have to confess to nerves on my part. You’re a gentleman, so I expect you’ll not be so cruel as to fray said nerves by making me wait~_

_That was merely a jest. I understand you’re a terribly busy man. Regardless of the timing or response, I eagerly await your presence._

_Yours truly,_

_Caeda, Princess of Talys_

_P.S. I’m not entirely joking about nerves. If you wouldn’t mind, please don’t tell anyone about this. I’d hate for either of us to have to endure any heartless gossip._

He had to be dreaming. There was no possible explanation otherwise for the letter he’d just read. Bizarrely, said explanation was disproven when he pinched himself and didn’t wake up. Hell, maybe it _was_ a prank from someone who figured out he had a thing for the pegasus knight. If that was the case, he probably ought to head to the stables anyway and assign them to digging ditches forever as punishment for trying to mess with him like this.

…Except it specifically referenced what they’d spoken about in the privacy of their little party, and neither Marth nor Caeda seemed like the types to go describing the whole thing to random Heroes. Which meant if he _was_ getting punked, it was one of them doing it. And those possibilities somehow felt even more impossible than the letter being genuine.

He sighed and folded the letter back up, putting it into his coat pocket. He was overthinking this whole thing – he just needed to go to the stables. If she was waiting for him like the letter said, great. If she wasn’t, he was no worse off than he was a few minutes ago. Yeah, he’d be disappointed, but his love life hadn’t exactly been a slam dunk anyway. What did he really have to lose?

So he did head that way. There was practically no one in his path as he made the trip since everyone was getting started on their afternoon training. Come to think of it, that also meant Caeda would be alone in the stables, since her fellow knights would be out drilling clear on the other side of the castle. The trek only took about twenty minutes at most, though he paused right outside the stables from nerves.

He took a breath to steel himself and rounded the corner. Right away, his sight was filled by the scarlet of Caeda’s dress and the sapphire of her hair as she tended to her pegasus. She turned at the sound of his footsteps, her face lighting up the moment she saw him. “You’ve come! I was worried you might’ve been too busy to answer my summons, but here you are!”

He reciprocated her smile and scratched the back of his neck. “To be honest, I wasn’t sure that you’d actually be here waiting for me. I was mostly making sure this wasn’t someone’s idea of a cruel joke.” He realized how his words sounded and frantically started backpedaling. “O-of course, now that I know it _isn’t_ , I’m totally on board! I mean, I don’t really remember if I have a free afternoon or not, but everyone’s always telling me to relax more anyway, so…”

She giggled her heavenly giggle and guided her pegasus out of its stable, giving him a clear look at the picnic basket loaded into its saddle. “I assure you, my invitation was perfectly serious. From the sound of it, you’re free one way or another, so shall we be on our way?”

“Yeah, sure!” He went to her side and remembered what their mode of transport would be. “But, uh, could you forgive me if I’m not leaping at the chance to ride on your pegasus?”

“I perfectly understand having first time jitters, but you’ve nothing to fear with me at the reins.” She pulled herself into her saddle and extended her hand to him. “You trust me, don’t you Kiran? You understand that I would never let anything happen to you, right?”

He’d have to be the densest idiot to blow this chance over whether or not he trusted the woman he loved. “Of course I trust you.” He grabbed her hand and let her lift him up to join her. “Just, if you don’t mind, don’t do anything too fancy for my first time.”

She directed her steed outside. “I wouldn’t dream of doing anything to make you uncomfortable.” When her pegasus unfurled its wings, his heart skipped a beat as he realized what he had just agreed to. As if sensing his discomfort, she glanced back and gave him a comforting grin. “Keep calm, Kiran. Just wrap your arms around my waist and let me handle everything.”

He’d _wanted_ to hold her waist for a long time, but now that she was telling him to actually do it, he found himself having second thoughts. In particular, he thought of her usual passenger and the inappropriateness of taking his place. “…Caeda, are you sure about this? I mean, I’d have to hold you pretty tight, and that’s not really the kind of–”

“Kiran,” she interrupted him, her grin now accompanied by half lidded eyes, “I’ve asked you in a personal letter to accompany me on a private outing known only to the two of us. I believe we’re both mature enough to understand my intentions and realize I’d be more offended if you didn’t hold me as tight as you could.”

This wasn’t real. This _could not_ be real. Why? How? When? There was no possible way to misinterpret what she just said, was there? “C-Caeda, are you saying what I think you’re saying…?”

She winked and grabbed his right hand to pull it around her hips. “Later, Kiran – this isn’t a very romantic setting, especially compared to what I’ve got planned.”

At this point, he didn’t need to be told twice. He hooked his left arm around her to join his right, both feeling her toned stomach even through his gloves and her dress. His heart raced both from fear and excitement as the pegasus’ wings began to flap and they ascended. Her hair started flowing back into his face, allowing him to smell her wonderful lavender scent. When they were far enough up that a fall would be dangerous, he instinctively gripped her tighter. In response, she rubbed his hands to help calm him down.

“Don’t say anything.” She instructed him when they stopped rising. “Just soak it all in while we make the trip.” By God, did he take in the sights as they soared above the world. He still held his earlier opinion – this was infinitely better from the safety of a plane – but he also agreed with Marth’s assessment. With his arms around Caeda, he was able to stifle his fear and enjoy the wind blowing through his hair. He wasn’t about to make a habit of travelling like this, but it would be worthwhile as an occasional novelty.

She took them away from the castle, over a forest and to a grassy field dotted with a myriad of flowers. The sight was absolutely magical from that high up and made the whole thing worth it. Gently, she set her pegasus down, giving them both the chance to dismount. For how spectacular the view had been, he couldn’t deny the comfort of having solid ground beneath him again. They got off on different sides of the pegasus, so he circled around to see her unfolding a blanket onto the ground.

He moved to help her, but she waved him off. “Please, allow me.” Out from the basket, she produced a tea set first thing. On the kettle he recognized magic inscriptions for heat and containment – if he had to guess, she’d made the tea that morning and preserved it for the trip. She motioned for him to sit down next to him and poured them both a cup.

Eagerly, he took a sip and found the cinnamon flavor more appealing than the chamomile he’d drank earlier in the week. Caeda opted to swirl her share in her cup and smile, reminding him of the question she’d ask him to put off until they had a more appropriate setting. “Caeda, I have to ask: why me? And why now? I’m not complaining, but…” He had to put more effort into his speech than usual – for some reason, his thoughts seemed a little slow. Was this some weird pegasus version of jet lag or something?

She leaned over and rested her hand atop his. “Your strength has always impressed me. I’ve always felt weak, like I have to rely on others to protect me and get things done.” Damn, that was a flattering thing to say. And kind of ill advised, because he didn’t feel strong at all. In fact, he felt really weak. Had his arms always been that heavy?

“But you’re always strong, no matter the circumstances. The Order started with nothing, and look at what you’ve grown it into. I’ve envied that strength of yours, that ability to make the most out of anything and forge the future you want, no matter what’s in your way.”

She was too kind, especially since he tended to feel like he owed it to all the Heroes he summoned. Had he even heard her correctly? She sounded like she was seriously slurring her words. Or was that just a trick of his eyes being so hard to keep open? _Man_ , had his breathing slowed down or what?

“I want to stay at your side and learn all I can about you and your strength, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Oh, well, there was nothing wrong with that, right? “Y-yeah…sure thing…” He was pretty sure it wasn’t supposed to be that difficult to talk. Nor was everything supposed to start going as dark as it was. Did Caeda just giggle? It sounded like she giggled again. Was that her leaning in right next to his ear? He really ought to listen to what she said. It was just…so hard to focus on anything with how tired he was…

“I look forward to observing you right up close…”

* * *

Kiran had no idea how long he was out before he finally started to come to. It was a slow, groggy awakening that caused his perception of his new surroundings to come in piecemeal. The first thing he realized was that he was no longer outside in a grassy field – rather, he was in some kind of windowless room. There was a freshly used sleeping roll off in the corner next to a pile of folded clothes, some sacks and a couple barrels, but nothing else of note. Second, he was sitting upright in a stiff wooden chair rather than lounging on a picnic blanket.

Finally, he was strapped to said chair at every limb and unable to do anything but impotently wiggle in place.

That last realization snapped him out of his somniferous funk and got him to swivel his head around in a panic. Had he gotten kidnapped by some Emblian or something? Where was Caeda? Was she safe? For all his questions, asking them would do no good if he couldn’t get out of his current predicament. Unfortunately, the rope binding his wrists and ankles proved to be far too well tied for him to break on his own meager strength. Even worse, the chair was seemingly bolted to the floor, so any chance of getting free by breaking it from a crash to the ground was lost from the start.

He ceased his futile attempts when he heard a very excited, very _familiar_ gasp behind him. “You’re finally awake!” The words were followed up by a pitter patter of rapidly approaching steps. A scant few second later, Caeda came into his field of view, a jubilant smile on her face.

“C-Caeda?” He stammered out, now much more confused about the situation he was in. “What’s going on? Where are we? Why am I tied to a chair?! How long have I –”

“Shh…” She hushed him and gently cupped his cheek in her gloved hand. “Don’t worry, everything’s going to be alright now. You’ve been asleep for almost two days now, though I only intended to put you under for about half a day. I’m sorry about putting so much sleeping draught in your tea, but it was the only way I could get you away from all the others.”

 _She did **what**?! _“Did you just say you _drugged_ my tea?! Why?! Who are ‘the others’ supposed to be?!” Infuriatingly, she revealed no further information to him. All she did was stand there and smile at him with half-lidded eyes and blushed cheeks, her hands behind her back. “Caeda! Answer me already!” For all the anger and indignation he threw behind his words, there was an undeniable undercurrent of fear in them. After all, he was tied up God knew where with a woman who had, by all appearances, kidnapped him. He was head over heels for Caeda, sure, but that didn’t mean he wanted her to drug his food and tie him up in some dungeon.

Finally, with her head lightly cocked to the side, Caeda spoke up again. “Tell me, Kiran: do you believe in love?”

“Uh, yeah, sure, I guess? That doesn’t answer my questions, Caeda! Why am I tied up?!”

Much to his chagrin, she carried on as if he hadn’t asked anything. “I’ve always believed in love too. Yet I’ve come to realize that, until recently, I didn’t actually know what love was. I _thought_ I did, but then I met you,” she pulled her hands forward and clasped them in front of her face with a positively adoring expression, “and I saw how completely wrong I was.”

“Is _that_ what this is about?!” He demanded, incredulous at the mere thought. “Is drugging and kidnapping me your idea of love? Because I don’t think Marth ever mentioned going through anything like this!”

She giggled at that, as if she’d heard a child assert that two plus two was five. “That just proves I never really loved Marth, silly! You know, I once told Ogma something when we first set out from Talys. I told him that Marth was very important to me and the world, but mostly to me. At the time, I believed that was proof I loved Marth, but now I can see it was actually the complete opposite.”

That didn’t make any sense to him – it definitely sounded like the kind of thing someone would say about the person they love. “…Why?” He dared to ask when she gave no further elaboration.

“Because I was willing to give up a piece of Marth, no matter how small, to the rest of the world. I was willing to live without one hundred percent of him. And that isn’t love.” She reached out her hand to stroke his hair; an act which he increasingly found himself wanting to recoil away from, if only he wasn’t strapped to a chair. “Love is when you want to have every last piece of someone all to yourself. Love is when you can’t stand the thought of anyone else so much as looking at the person you care about more than anything in the world. All of this – it’s proof of how much I love you. You’re _mine_ , and I won’t let anyone else have any of you.” Her words, which had otherwise been very warm and soothing, carried a sudden dangerous edge at her final declaration.

It was starting to dawn on Kiran that this whole situation was a lot more perilous than he’d first thought. He’d been hoping that this was all just Caeda’s sheltered, crazy idea of a date and that they’d be back with the rest of the Order within a few hours. But it was becoming clear that her affection was more of an obsession, one that would probably see him in that chair for a long time yet.

“When…when did you realize that?” He asked, now far more cautious about what he said in light of Caeda’s mental state.

She began wistfully staring off in the distance, her cheek resting in the hand that used to be stroking his hair. “I can’t say for sure when I started to fall for you, but I’m certain I loved you when we had that tea party with Marth. I’ve spent countless hours since then going over every word you and I shared that day, treating every breath you took like the treasure it is. And yet, I can’t remember a single thing Marth said that whole time. Do you want to know why?” Against his better judgement, he dared to nod his head. “Well, it’s honestly really simple,” Caeda shut her eyes and flashed him a beaming smile.

“Every time he opened his mouth, all I could think about was how much I wanted to rip out his throat to shut him up.”

Kiran’s blood turned to ice in his veins. This was far, _far_ worse than he thought. Caeda wasn’t just obsessed with him – she was entertaining homicidal fantasies about what was supposed to be a loved one. Judging by that blissful grin on her face, she was more than entertaining them; she was actively enjoying them. Hell, she was practically bragging about it in what she probably saw as a romantic admission. _Oh God, I’ve been out for two days…what if she_ acted _on those impulses while I was asleep?_

While he began to understand just how dangerously insane Caeda was, she kept going with her story. “Didn’t you notice how I only ever spoke to you? That was because you were the only thing in that room that mattered to me. That tea party should’ve been a special moment for the two of us, but Marth kept getting in the way! Every time it began to feel like we were lost in our own little world, he would start yapping and ruin it! We’d be fixated on each other like we’re supposed to, but then he’d have to butt in for no reason!”

She sighed and shook her head. “It was the same with everyone else in the Order. Every tactician that took your attention away, every child that leapt into your arms, every Hero that asked for a moment of your time…I’ve dreamed about killing all of them. I obviously never _did_ it, Gods know I’d never get away with that. Still, those thoughts filled my head every time I saw you with them. I realized that I _needed_ to have you all to myself, so it was either kill everybody in the Order or get you away from them.” She leaned back and forth on the balls of her feet, like she was recounting a shopping trip and not how she’d contemplated mass murder. “Given those options, I think it’s pretty obvious why I went with what I did.”

“But that’s all in the past!” She reached forward to capture him in the kind of bone crushing hug that he’d once dreamed of getting from her. Now, he was terrified she’d punctuate it with a knife to the gut for some reason or another. “We’re all alone now – nobody can ever come between us.” She brought her lips so close he could feel her breath on his ear. “We’ll be together forever, my love…” When she whispered that last affirmation, he was so scared he almost started crying.

 _Keep it together, Kiran! Just take this one step at a time: figure out what she intends to do and you can plan some way to get out of it._ At least, he hoped he’d be able to escape before it was too late. He knew damn well it would only be a matter of time before Stockholm Syndrome set in (especially with how attached he already was to her) or, barring that, Caeda decided that a murder suicide was the only true way for them to be together away from the rest of the world.

He summoned as much courage as he could to keep probing her for information. “Caeda…what, exactly, is the plan here? Are you just going to keep me tied up in here for all eternity? That doesn’t sound like it’ll make for a very…engaging relationship.” As dangerous as indulging her madness was, playing hard to get would be even more so. His best chance was to go along with it and earn her trust.

“Oh goodness, no!” She pulled back, her hands still resting on his shoulders. “I really am sorry about tying you down like this, but you’re such a kind, selfless man that I know you think you have a duty to go back to the Order and keep summoning. It’ll take some time, but you’ll eventually get over them and see I’m all that matters. The rope is just to keep your sense of honor from getting the better of you and making you run off before that happens. Trust me, darling,” she leaned forward to kiss his forehead, “everything I do is for your own good.”

The worst parts were that she both genuinely believed everything she said and wasn’t very far off the mark about some of it. He _would_ give in sooner or later and she was smart enough to know it wouldn’t happen overnight, which meant faking compliance to get free was out of the question.

“Once you’ve come around, we’ll head for the World of Mystery. We’re in a ruin fairly close to the gateway, but it’s under Embla’s control at the moment. The Order will clear it out sooner or later, at which point we’ll just pass through after they leave. Oh, and you don’t have to worry about anyone interrupting us – I found this ruin completely undisturbed during a scouting mission one day. I’m the only one who knows about it, and ever since I’ve been discretely preparing it for us to live in. I know I should’ve waited until the Order cleansed the World of Mystery, but I just couldn’t bear to endure another day of sharing you with everyone else.”

 _Thank Christ she couldn’t wait!_ He thought, relieved to have finally found a silver lining. He’d been worried she’d already taken him to another world, but learning he was still in Askr’s neighborhood offered a ray of hope. Especially since retaking gateways would be the last thing on the Order’s agenda now that he was missing. He didn’t tell anyone where he was going (he bitterly noted the reason she’d asked him to keep quiet was now all too clear), but after two days, they probably had search parties scouring all of Zenith looking for them. It might take a while, but it was only a matter of time before a laguz or hunter caught the trail of Caeda’s pegasus and followed it there.

Not like he was ever going to tell Caeda as much. If her delusions gave him a chance of escape, he wasn’t about to correct her. For now, he was just going to keep her talking. “Then what would happen once we got into the World of Mystery? I think people would notice two Caedas running around.”

She waved him off. “That’s not going to be a problem. I’ll just kill the Caeda that’s already there and take her place. From there, I’ll break off her engagement with Marth so we can have a private wedding in the castle chapel and live together in the royal suite! Father shouldn’t have a problem with it, but it won’t be hard to get rid of him if he does – Gods know there are plenty of pirates around Talys desperate enough to make some coin that they’d take on such a job. No matter how things work out, I guarantee you we’re going to have a wonderful life raising our family! I bet our first girl will have your hair and my eyes. What do you think?”

He thought Caeda only got worse every time she opened her mouth. How sick and twisted did she have to be to talk about murdering her own father so casually? He wasn’t sure whether or not that was worse than promising to kill her alternate self, nor did he want to dwell on so morbid a subject for too long. It also wasn’t worth looking too deep into her intended future arrangements for him; given how unhinged she was about him being seen, let alone spoken to, by other Heroes, he had no doubt she meant for him to stay in that suite away from all other human contact for the rest of his life. It would certainly be a cozier prison than the one he was currently in, but it would be a prison all the same.

But that was not something he ought to be lingering on – Caeda was expecting a response and he didn’t want to risk making her mad by being late with it. “O-oh, well, I think it’ll probably be the other way around.”

“Blue hair runs strong in my family, so you’re probably right.” She gave a dreamy sigh and cupped her cheeks in both hands. “Oh, it doesn’t matter how they turn out. Either way, I can’t wait to hold our first child in my arms. To be honest,” she shot him a lascivious look and rubbed her thighs together, “a part of me wants to get to work making them right away. But I _am_ a princess, and I know some things have to wait until we’ve exchanged vows. Of course,” she sat herself horizontally on his lap, both her legs dangling off his right side, “that doesn’t mean _everything_ has to be saved for the wedding night.”

With that assertion, she extended forward to claim his lips, her arms lovingly draped over his neck. Just a few days before, he’d have readily fantasized about having such an intimate moment with Talys’ princess. Naturally, such fantasies usually involved him mirroring her movements and tended to be set after a romantic series of events. The situation that led to this tryst in reality was so heinous and distressing that the pleasant suckle of her lips on his was far outweighed by the terror of being the object of such a violently unstable woman’s affection. He honestly felt sickened with himself for getting any ounce of enjoyment out of the kiss now that Caeda, physically attractive though she still was, had revealed her true colors.

And yet, his gut told him that rejecting her outright wouldn’t end well for him. She had already kidnapped him and admitted to daydreaming about violently murdering what should’ve been close friends of hers. If he tried to directly refuse her advances, there was no telling what methods she might resort to. So, reluctantly, he began to kiss her back. The low hum of pleasure she let out in response was encouraging and practically begging for more, but he dared not go any further. He didn’t know much about psychology, but he did know that giving Caeda any kind of positive association while in his current predicament would only make it easier for him to give in to her wiles.

When he kept his lips shut despite the gentle prodding of her tongue, she pulled away with a look equal parts coy and frustrated. “I’d rather go a bit farther…but you’re right: we shouldn’t rush things. After all,” she leaned forward to press their foreheads together and gazed deep into his eyes, “we’ll have all the time in the world to get more intimate with each other.”

For his part, Kiran desperately prayed that someone would rescue him long before things got that far.

* * *

He had no frame of reference to measure against, but Kiran got the impression Caeda was fairly benign as far as potentially homicidal captors went. As long as he didn’t try to give her the cold shoulder, she was more than happy to spend all day chatting with a big smile on her face. She told him practically everything about herself, from how she met her pegasus to showing off the handkerchief she used to wear around her neck as a girl. She would ask him for details about himself or his homeland and gush over the smallest things. Sometimes, she would just hold his hands and smile at him, neither of them making a sound. She acted so much like a normal, loving girlfriend that at times he almost forgot how violently unstable she was.

Almost.

Every night (he could only guess at the time of day since she always kept him indoors), she would kiss him goodnight and go to sleep on a bedroll in the corner while he was left tied up in his chair. He barely slept, and when he did, he woke up only to feel painfully stiff. Caeda, once she had woken up herself and gotten changed behind him, did at least try to help with that by rubbing his shoulders and neck. For all her efforts, it didn’t do much good and he couldn’t exactly find it in him to be grateful when it was her fault he was in pain anyway.

He couldn’t subsist on giggles and small talk alone, so Caeda took it upon herself to hand feed him every meal, which consisted exclusively of water, dried meat, and bread she’d stored there beforehand. At first, he refused to eat anything she offered – he’d gotten into this mess by eating Caeda’s cooking, after all. When she pointed out that she hadn’t gone to all the trouble of getting him away from everyone just to keep him asleep forever at the same time his stomach decided to protest the lack of any recent nourishment, he had to relent and accept her food. It tasted neither bad nor good, but was filling and quickly proven to not have been laced with anything, so he could see no reason to reject it from that point on.

The real challenge, aside from the general atmosphere of tension and fear Caeda seemed to be oblivious to, came when he digested that sustenance and needed to relieve himself. There was a bucket that Caeda herself took outside to use, but he knew better than to hope she’d ever give him that kind of leeway. She didn’t even dare trust to leave him unbound alone in the room while she kept watch outside, which he had to admit was probably a wise policy.

Her solution was every bit as dreadful and controlling as he’d come to expect: she would untie him and, to provide proper “motivation” not to try anything, she’d hover over his shoulder with her sword at his throat while he did his business. As far as he could tell, she did at least turn her head away to give him some bare iota of privacy, though he had no delusions that he’d be able to capitalize on that minor distraction to escape given her superior physicality and combat experience. He had no problem using the bucket, since any shame or humiliation at having a cute girl in the room while he did so was far outweighed by the terror of feeling cold, sharpened steel press into his neck. Once he was secure again, she’d take the bucket outside to dump its contents. In his brief stints of ‘freedom’, he saw that the way out was through an ascending staircase, meaning they must’ve been in some manner of basement.

The one saving grace behind that state of affairs was that Caeda had to maintain the threat of violence up until he was properly restrained again, meaning that she had to retie him with only one free hand. By angling his wrists up ever so slightly, he was able to create small gaps between the rope and armrests of the chair. Hours later, once she was asleep, he probed the security of his bonds and found them somewhat lacking, but not enough to break free. It wasn’t like the weakening of the knots would cumulatively stack every time she retied him, so he needed to think of something else to give them an additional push.

His solution was to casually chat with Caeda as she rebound him, to split her focus and give her something else to think about other than the tightness of his proverbial shackles. He didn’t attempt to do so right out of the gate – she’d suspect something if he suddenly became overly genial for no reason – but started conversations throughout the day of his own initiative. Before, he kept silent unless prompted to respond to something Caeda asked, but acting like he was engaged in their ‘relationship’ would go a long way to lowering her guard.

He spent three days wearing a false smile, feigning interest in her, and forcing himself to lean into her kisses before he decided it was time to risk putting his plan into action. “You were privately tutored, right?” He asked as he refastened his belt. “What was your favorite subject to learn?”

He could practically hear the sparkle in her eyes at his question, even as her grip on her sword never wavered. “I’ve always loved history! The wise rulers, the strong heroes, the passionate romances – I was constantly trying to get my tutors to tell me more even after the lesson had ended. Besides, I’ll be queen one day, so it was only natural to focus on that so as to learn from the past.” He got back into his chair without Caeda needing to push him down like she had the first several times they did this. “What about you? You said you’re not of the nobility, so I doubt your family could afford very many tutors.”

 _Please, God, let this work._ “Oh, I was always more of a math kind of guy. We have state funded public education back home, so I just went to school with a bunch of other kids.”

“That makes us balanced! We won’t even need to hire tutors for our children – with how well rounded we are together, we’ll be able to teach them everything ourselves.” Caeda began tying him back down and he began angling his wrists…but this time, he felt noticeably more give from the rope. “It’s such a shame it took until adulthood for us to find one another. It would have been so wonderful to spend afternoons as children hunched around a desk, helping to teach each other.” She whimsically sighed and made a rather sloppy knot on his left hand. “I bet you were just the most adorable little boy.”

He recognized a golden opportunity to distract Caeda when he saw it. “Well, I’m, uh, sure you were the cutest little girl in Archanea.”

“Stop it, you’re making me blush!” She playfully smacked his shoulder and, just as he hoped, considered the half-baked constriction on his left wrist to be satisfactory and removed her sword to begin tying down his legs.

He’d run out of material by that point, but now he had his proof that Caeda could be sufficiently thrown off her game by the right form of conversation. He wasn’t stupid enough to try and break free right now – she still had access to her sword and even if it wasn’t a factor, he didn’t like his chances in a fistfight with her anyway. Nor did he think he’d get very far trying to slip out at night; any war veteran worth their salt was a light sleeper and the sound of his efforts would doubtless wake Caeda up.

His best bet was to wait for a rescue and break free while she was busy with them. He’d have to spend his free time brainstorming discussion topics to replicate this success and then struggle with his leg restraints whenever his rescuers arrived, but it was the only viable escape plan he had. It was just a matter of time that he’d have to keep up the charade before he got a chance to put it into action…

….which turned out to be no time at all. The very next morning, an opportunity presented itself.

“Would you consider me a tomboy?” Caeda asked as she fed him his breakfast. “It’s a silly thing to worry about, but I can’t but wonder if I could do with a little more femininity.”

“Uh, not really? You’ve always seemed pretty feminine to me – you wear dresses, keep your hair long, all that stuff. I mean, yeah, you fight, but if that’s all it takes then the vast majority of women in the Order are tomboys too, and I’m pretty sure a lot of them would disagree with that label.”

“Maybe so, but there’s something to be said about–” Instantly, she went silent and covered his mouth at the sound of footsteps just outside the basement. The casual joviality she’d displayed up to that point dissipated in less than a second; now, she had the alertness of a hunter that just caught the scent of blood.

When the noise persisted, she slowly drew her attention back to him and gave what she probably thought was a reassuring grin. “Don’t worry, darling.” She whispered and pulled out her childhood handkerchief, which she promptly twisted into a coil and tied around his mouth to keep him quiet. There was no slapdash method to her knot tying this time – she was very careful to make sure nothing would loosen his lips. With that done, she cupped his cheek in her hand and assured him, “This will only take a moment.” She kissed his forehead and grabbed her sword before walking beyond his sight to the stairs.

He wanted to break free right away, but he had to consider that it might’ve been an Emblian who stumbled onto them. In which case, an escape attempt would lose him Caeda’s trust for no gain, since he doubted Embla was in much of a rush to help him get back to the rest of the Order. But then, what were the odds that random Emblians were running around to poke through ruins?

A few tense seconds of Caeda’s footsteps growing quieter passed before he got his answer. “Ranulf!” Caeda’s muffled voice drifted into the room “Thank goodness you’re here!”

He’d have been relieved to know the blue Laguz was on the scene were it not apparent what Caeda’s strategy was. _NO! Oh, dear God, **no**! She’s going to feign friendliness until she gets a chance to stab him in the back_!

“Caeda!” He made out the first non-Caeda voice he’d heard in what felt like weeks. “I thought I recognized your pegasus out here. So you’ve been on the search for Kiran just like Marth said, huh?” It was now or never! Kiran began straining as hard as he could against his bonds, desperate to get free before Ranulf fell victim to Caeda’s ploy.

“Yes, and I think I’ve found him.” With a snap, his left hand came free and immediately began working to undo the rope around his right. “Or at least, I think I’ve found where he’s being kept. There’s a winding dungeon down there that goes on for Gods know how long. I can’t bear to leave Kiran trapped in there, but I’ve no idea what I might be up against.”

His right hand was set loose too, giving him all he needed to work on the gag around his mouth. “Well, it’s a good thing I’m the one who caught up with you! He’s down there alright, I got here my catching a whiff of his scent. With my senses at the helm, we’ll have him back in no time.” God dammit, the handkerchief wouldn’t come undone! Caeda must have really put her all into that knot because he couldn’t even figure out where to start on untangling it. Nor could he just pull the cloth down from his mouth – it didn’t cover his lips so much as it pulled them back far too tightly for him to make words.

“If you’re offering to take point, then I’ll guard the rear so that we aren’t caught unaware.” _NO! Don’t listen to her, Ranulf!_ Time was running out! He had to leave the gag be and hope he had more luck with the rope at his legs. Right away their fat threads proved easier to get a grip on than the twisted, smooth fabric of his gag.

He managed to free his left leg just as he heard their pair of footsteps begin approaching. He started stomping with his free foot and making as many muffled screams as he could, hoping the noise would draw Ranulf in and give him some distance from Caeda. “Kiran, is that you?!” His efforts did result in the sound of quickened footsteps, but they both sped up at the same time.

Finally, he managed to wrench his right leg loose and collapsed to the floor. “Kiran!” On his knees and hand, he twisted his head to look at the room’s new occupant. “What is –”

Just as Kiran caught sight of Ranulf, his words were literally cut off by a blade cleaving into his neck. With a splash of blood, he fell into a heap, his head lolling to the side on his half-severed neck. Standing over his twitching, gurgling body was Caeda, a look of pure hatred being directed at her victim’s soon-to-be corpse.

Up until that point, Caeda had been almost exclusively pleasant and cheerful to the point that it was sometimes difficult to tell just how volatile she really was. Even her violent fantasies had never been admitted with anything more than frustrated exasperation at worst, making it ambiguous how she would honestly act if push came to shove. But now, covered in blood and with her pretty features contorted into rage, there could be no doubt she was just as malevolent and dangerous as he’d initially believed. For the first time, she was as twisted outside as she was on the inside.

“You looked at him…” She muttered to herself, her fingers tightening further on the hilt of her sword. “You _talked_ to him…you’re lucky I had to kill you quickly, you worthless scum.” In one final act of fury-fueled spite, she stomped on his half-severed neck, spraying more blood with a horrible squelching sound and severing just enough strained sinews of muscle to leave his head lolling on his shoulder by a few thin layers of skin.

Then she looked up and saw Kiran free from his restraints.

For an instant, neither of them moved. He looked at her and her handiwork with wide, horrified eyes. He now had irrefutable proof of how vicious she was and had been forced to abandon any kernels of hope that her sinister words were just empty threats. She looked at him with numb shock, unable to understand why or how he could be loose when she’d killed Ranulf before he could reach him.

She pounced a second later.

Although he tried to scramble away, his earlier fears were proven right when she was able to pin him to the ground with her superior strength and technique. Even if he wanted to struggle, she once again pressed her sword against his throat to ensure his compliance. This time, he was assaulted by the powerful coppery stench of the fresh blood that soaked the blade. “Don’t worry, dear, I’m not mad.” She tried to assure him, but he didn’t miss the hurt in her voice. “I’m just a little disappointed. I really thought we were connecting, that you were understanding you don’t need anyone but me. But the second _he_ showed up, you tried to get away…” Her voice dropped in pitch as she spoke, inspiring ever greater fear in him with every word. By the end, he was convinced she was about to kill him.

He was so scared that he couldn’t even breathe as she kneeled on top of him, idly twisting her weapon back and forth against his neck as she contemplated what to do. “…I suppose I shouldn’t blame you. You knew what I was going to do to him and all your time with the Order has made you instinctively try to help when a Hero is in danger. Old habits die hard, and I shouldn’t have expected you to come around in less than a week. But still,” she tightened her grip on the back of his neck. “we can’t have you trying to run away every time someone comes by. Come on, let’s go back to the chair.”

He followed her lead, thought it wasn’t like he had a choice in the matter. As his steps created small splashes from walking over Ranulf’s blood, a part of him wondered if it wouldn’t be better to just cut his throat on her sword rather than endure whatever punishment she’d thought up, but he ultimately didn’t have the guts to go through with something like that. She tied him down very deliberately this time, likely having guessed her sloppy work had gotten him free. Once he was secure again, she undid his gag, though he was too terrified to make use of his returned vocal ability.

“Kiran,” she rubbed his shoulders, which brought far less comfort than she probably thought it did, “you know how much I love you, right? You understand that everything I do is because of that love, don’t you?” He gave no response. He didn’t trust himself not to say something that would set her off. In return, she sighed and let go of him, only to sink to her knees and begin taking off his right boot. “I want you to know that I hate having to resort to this. I hate that you’ve forced me to do this to you. But I can’t risk letting anyone take you away from me, and drastic times call for drastic measures. One day, when you love me as much as I love you, we’ll look back on this and laugh together.”

She grabbed his foot, and while Kiran didn’t know for sure what she was about to do, he intuitively knew he had to stop her. “Caeda, I _did_ love you!” She loosened her grip and glanced up, a curious look in her eyes. “I fell in love the moment I first met you! I thought you were the most gorgeous woman I’d ever seen. Then I got to know you, and I thought you were stronger and more inspiring than anyone I knew. Every day that went by, I cursed that I would never be able to have you. I dreamed of holding you in my arms and kissing you at the end of a romantic evening. I _wanted_ you to tell me you loved me more than anything in the world!”

He wasn’t able to help it when he started crying as he poured out his heart. “But not like _this_! I don’t want you to kill anyone! I don’t want to be tied to this chair! I don’t want everything we do to be built on threats and intimidation! I-I just want the old Caeda back…” by this point, his tears had completely blurred his vision and he was shaking his head, “I want to have the woman who gave me a bouquet at the bridal festival again…”

There was no sound in the room save for his sniffling and bawling. His eyes had shut, but he opened them again when he felt Caeda stroking his leg. “Oh, Kiran…” She looked at him with such warmth and compassion that, for a moment, he believed that he got through to her.

“I know you _want_ to love me, but you still can’t let go of the Order.” His heart plummeted into his stomach. “No matter how small it is, you’re still giving them room in your heart. Until you snuff that out, you can’t _really_ love me, no matter how hard you try.” Even as her smile grew wider, her insane words broke the brief spell he’d been under. Despite the veneer of kindness over them, a deep look into her eyes revealed how soulless and empty she was at heart. “And until that day comes, we don’t want that piece to get the better of you and make you try to leave me.” Once again, she gripped his foot and Kiran’s heart began pounding with instinctive fear. “Don’t you recall what I told you at the bridal festival? I’m happiest knowing the man I love is safe and sound. And you’re not safe if you can run too far away for me to protect you.”

“Caeda, _please_ , don’t do whatever you’re thinking of! I-I won’t try to escape again, I promise, so _please_ _don’t hurt me!_ ”

“Shh…” She tried to soothe him with a placid hush. “Remember, Kiran: everything I do is for your own good.”

Her shoulders tensed and a second later she twisted his foot with all her strength. A sickening crack echoed through the room, but he barely heard it over his own screams as a bolt of agony shot up through his leg. The second it started to remotely subside, a second, equally intense wave of pain exploded across his body as he felt Caeda wrench his ankle even further. After some seconds of screaming and crying, he could vaguely feel her begin to stroke his hair, which did nothing to ease the anguish that had overloaded every nerve in his foot.

Somewhere deep inside, he found the strength to crack open his eyes and reduce his screams to a series of frantic gasps and whimpers. He dared to look down and saw his foot bent backwards some one-hundred eighty degrees. Foolishly, he tried to test the damage and twitch his toes, earning nothing but another burst of pain for his trouble.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Caeda whispered into his ear, “just let it all out. I only hurt you because you made me, you know. Now, you couldn’t try to get away even if you wanted to, so I won’t have to do that again.”

He wanted to fling a string of curses and obscenities at her. He wanted to tell her what a cruel, abusive psychopath she was, no matter what the consequences would be. But everything hurt so much that he couldn’t do anything but lean away and cry. When she gently pulled his head back towards her so she could kiss his tear-soaked lips, he cried even harder.

“Don’t worry, love.” She assured him once she pulled her mouth back. “I’ll make the pain go away.” He was still in so much shock that he barely noticed her get up and walk over to her cot. She returned with a ceramic flask that she wasted no time pressing into his lips. “Just drink this and it won’t have to hurt anymore.” Kiran knew that, whatever it was, he shouldn’t drink it. He knew he couldn’t trust anything Caeda said. But he was so desperate for any kind of alleviation to the pain that he still swallowed whatever flowed out of that flask (and it wasn’t like he was in any shape to refuse her anyway).

After he swallowed a few mouthfuls, he could feel the same lethargy that had overtaken him at the picnic. He’d have been more worried about what Caeda would do once he was knocked out again, but fact that the excruciation in his leg started to die down brought too much relief for him to care.

“Sweet dreams, Kiran…” she whispered as the darkness engulfed him.

* * *

Even before his eyes opened, the first thing he felt was the pain. It was no longer like a spike was being driven into his ankle, but it was still a constant, powerful throbbing that overpowered all his other senses. He moaned from the ache and cracked open his eyes, only to find himself in another unfamiliar room. He was still tied to a chair, but this prison had a much more circular shape as opposed to the old square one. He glanced down to assess the damage to his foot and saw it coated in ugly series of purple and black blotches. The longer he looked at it the more he wanted to throw up, so he wasted no time averting his eyes back to the wall. In the corner of his vision he caught a flash of blue and turned his head to see Caeda pacing back and forth, biting the tip of her thumb and muttering to herself.

He tried to block out the pain and strained his hearing to make out what she was saying. “Doesn’t make sense, they shouldn’t be here, why do they want to steal him from me, why why _why why_ …” Her hair, once meticulously combed, was now matted and tangled and her skin was noticeably paler. Whatever happened while he was unconscious, it looked to have made Caeda even more unhinged than she already was.

He didn’t dare draw her attention to him when she was like that, so he just went still and listened to her rant to herself. Unfortunately, he was so stupid he forgot to close his eyes, so it was only a matter of time before she noticed him glancing at her. “You’re awake!” She chirped and immediately started smoothing down her ruffled locks. “Goodness, I must look a mess right now. I’m so sorry about that, I’ve just been under a bit of stress while you were asleep.” She leaned in to kiss him and he had to resist the urge to bash his skull against her mouth. “Speaking of, did you sleep well? You didn’t have any… _indecent_ dreams about me, did you?”

That coy grin she was wearing made it obvious she was hoping he had, as if she hadn’t broken his foot just before sending him to sleep again. _What the fuck is **wrong** with her?! _He knew he’d never get anywhere trying to figure that out, so he just opted to try and get some answers instead. “Where have you taken me this time?”

Her lips dropped to a pensive frown. “You’re right, this is no time for flirting. Things are so much worse than we thought.” She gripped his hand and looked like she was about to tell him his parents had been killed in a car crash. “Kiran, it wasn’t just Ranulf – it looks like the _entire Order_ is trying to separate us.” _Shit, it’s no wonder she’s more unstable now that she’s finally wizened up._ “I thought it was just Ranulf and the other laguz – you know how staunch and territorial they can be – but there’s all kinds of Heroes out there searching for us!” Her breathing had sped up to the point she was just shy of hyperventilating, which she took notice of and tried to calm with a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I? Let me start over.”

“Ranulf said he found us by scent, so if he could find us then other laguz could as well. Especially since Ranulf’s scent was all over there too and they’d go looking for him when he didn’t return. So, to slow them down, I decided to move us to another ruin, albeit one the Order is already aware of. I _thought_ it would be an easy half hour flight, but…” her lips and hands began quivering, “they’re _everywhere_. The sky is filled with pegasi, wyverns and manaketes and the ground is covered with foot and hoofprints. I had to spend some five or six hours guiding my pegasus here on foot while avoiding being spotted. The poor dear got her wings tangled in branches several times and has lost more than a few feathers from the whole ordeal.”

“So…nobody saw you, right? You weren’t caught by anybody?” He hoped and prayed the answer to his questions was ‘no’. He was obviously still captive, which meant that if anyone _had_ tried to stop Caeda…

She understood he wanted her to deny being spotted, but for the entirely wrong reason. “Oh, darling, I’m so sorry.” She wrapped him in a gentle hug. “I tried my hardest to not be seen, I really did, but…I was found once.” Whoever it was, Kiran felt a pre-emptive stab of guilt for not preventing whatever fate befell them. “That girl from the plains of Elibe, Sue, did catch sight of me. She rode up and I could barely believe my ears when she told me about how the Order had been on a manhunt ever since you’d disappeared. She kept her guard up even when she filled me in, so I had to act friendly and pretend I was ‘rescuing’ you until I got a chance to dispose of her. All the while, she…she…” he could feel her start to bristle with rage against him, “she kept looking at and talking about you…”

He winced when Caeda’s nails began to dig into his back as her fury reached a boiling point. “Then she tried to actually reach out and _touch_ you!” She pulled back and Kiran got a brief look at the bared teeth snarl on her face before it morphed into a smug grin. “But you don’t have to worry – I didn’t let her. She sure was surprised when she was suddenly missing a hand, though I didn’t give her long to think about it before I cleaved her skull.”

 _Ranulf, Sue…I’m so sorry…_ He couldn’t help the guilty tears that started flowing. _This is all my fault…if I’d been a second faster getting free, none of this would’ve happened…_ “Please, don’t cry, Kiran.” Yet again, that once angelic voice tried to console him for all the wrong reasons. “I didn’t let her defile you. You’re still safe here with me. I’m not sure quite how yet, but we’ll get out of this. They _won’t_ take you away from me, I swear it.”

For some reason, that complete lack of empathy was the final straw. Something inside him snapped, and he resolved that the least he could do to make amends to Ranulf and Sue was shatter Caeda’s delusions once and for all. He started by crashing his forehead against hers as hard as he could. “Augh!” She cried out and nursed her head. “Kiran, what’s gotten into–”

“ _SHUT UP!_ ” He roared, feeling a rush of catharsis at finally speaking his mind. “You sick, maniacal _bitch_! It’s time for you to wake up and face facts: it’s _over_! You’ll never get back to Talys, there won’t be any wedding and we won’t have any children! Sooner or later, a full-fledged patrol is going to find us. And you know what’s going to happen? They’re going to _kill_ you because you’re a fucked-up psychopath who’s going to burn in hell for all she’s done! I’m going to go back to the Order and do everything I can to forget you ever existed because you’re a blight who’s brought nothing but pain and suffering into my life! I’ll keep summoning new Heroes and every single one of them is going to hear about Caeda, the freak traitor who betrayed everyone out of some demented obsession she called love!”

He could feel spittle dribble down his chin as he sat there huffing. Caeda perched on the ground staring at him, her hand still frozen over her forehead. Eventually, she blinked and looked to the ground in what he thought was some form of shame. “Gods…” she uttered and picked herself back up, “I’d heard repeated doses of sleeping draught could have side effects, but I never imagined they’d be _this_ severe. They really ought to fix that if it’s going to cause the kind of misunderstandings that could ruin lesser couples.”

 _No…_ He thought, unable to believe what he was hearing. _That’s just not possible…_ Caeda hadn’t internalized a single thing he said. Already, she had another happy smile on her face, like nothing had happened. “Oh well. _I_ know better than to let some nonsense born of a faulty potion get to me.” Right away, she reached forward to hug him again.

“Get off of me!” He demanded and began squirming in her grasp.

She only giggled and hugged him harder. “It’s like the draught has made you say the opposite of what you mean! Really, I should be thanking it: that cruel rant it made you spout has told me how to get the Order off our backs!”

At once, his writhing stopped. What was she talking about? He hadn’t said much of anything beyond how much he hated her – how did she get a ‘solution’ to her problem from that? “…And what would that be?” He asked, already afraid of the answer.

“If they take you away from me, you’ll have to keep summoning Heroes. Kiran, don’t you see? _That’s_ why they’re so desperate to get you back.” He got a sinking feeling he knew where this train of thought was headed, though he dearly hoped he was wrong. “So, to get them to leave us alone, all we have to do is make it so you can’t summon!”

 _What world is she living in?!_ “How insane are you?! They’re not going to abandon me just because I can’t summon anymore!”

“Of course they will! For as much as I’ve wanted to kill them, they’re not bad people in their own rights. If you can’t summon, the only reason to break us apart would be out of spite, and I can’t imagine they’re that cruel.” It figured that Caeda’s criteria for a ‘bad person’ was whether or not they supported her ‘love’. “Of course, that still leaves the matter of how to do it…”

He knew he had to stop this before Caeda got too attached to the idea – God only knew what she’d resort to if given free rein. “Caeda, that isn’t going to work! Even _if_ you were right that the Order would stop caring about me because I couldn’t summon, they’d _still_ hunt you down to make you pay for killing Ranulf and Sue! There is nothing you can do at this point that would let you walk away from this!”

She gripped her chin and started pacing around in front of him. “The Breidablik is still at the castle, and there’s no way I could sneak in to get it out and destroy it with how riled up everyone is.” _She’s not even listening to me!_ “So we need to keep you from being able to ever use it again…” Her glazed eyes roamed over his body as she contemplated what to do. The moment her vision stopped wandering, Kiran went rigid with terror. He recognized that look in her eyes – it was the same look she had before she broke his foot.

And now she was staring directly at his hands.

“Kiran,” she began in that same falsely reassuring voice she’d used after murdering Ranulf, “you have to remember that everything I do, I do because I love you more than anything in the world.”

She drew her sword, confirming all of Kiran’s worst fears. “Stay away from me!” He beseeched, struggling in vain against his bindings. “Caeda, _please!_ Don’t do this!”

“We don’t have a choice, Kiran.” She softly rubbed the top of his head, as if that would somehow make up for what she was about to do. “If I make an injury that can be healed, it won’t solve anything. I know this will hurt, but just think of how much worse it would hurt if we were separated from each other.” She gave him a peck on the lips. “We’re in love, and that means there’s nothing we can’t endure to be together.”

“If you really loved me, you wouldn’t try to hurt me! And _you_ aren’t enduring anything! _I’m_ the one who has to suffer because of your psychosis!”

“You think it doesn’t pain me to do this?!” She challenged, tears in the corners of her eyes. “You think I _want_ to hurt you?! I know very well what the consequences of this will be! You’ll never be able to hug me, or embrace me when we make love, or hold our children in your arms…” She sniffled and wiped away the nascent moisture in her eyes, her expression steeling as she did so. “But I’d rather lessen the intimacy of those moments than not have them at all.” She walked around to his right side and gripped his wrist, her blade hovering just above the base of his hand.

“ _CAEDA, PLEASE, I’M BEGGING YOU! PLEASE STOP!_ ”

She lifted up the weapon, her face serene and her smile apologetic. “I assure you, Kiran, this hurts me a lot more than it hurts you.”

The sword came crashing down and buried itself a few inches above the rope that kept him subdued. Just as with his foot before, a firestorm of pain engulfed every nerve from his arm out. Dark red blood splattered across both of their faces and along the floor in every direction. He could both feel the scrape and hear the squeal of steel against bone as she wrenched the blade free. In the midst of his agonized screams, he cracked open an eye to see his fingers uncontrollably twitch, though his line of sight was partially obscured by a splintered shard of bone. To the side, he saw Caeda raise her weapon again, her blue hair dotted with red blotches like some bastardization of a British flag.

Before she could strike again, he tried to strain against his bonds in one last ditch effort to get free. To his horror, he saw that while his arm wiggled in place, his hand failed to respond. All he accomplished was a widening of the wound, like a fissure spreading along the ground. He realized that his nerves had been severed and his hand was connected to his body by nothing but a lump of impotent tendons the instant before Caeda’s sword came down a second time. It struck directly into the gash, cutting clean through and embedding itself in the wood of the chair.

His severed hand sloughed from the armrest onto the ground, a constant tide of blood from his gaping wrist not far behind. “You’re doing wonderful, Kiran.” He thought he heard Caeda in his ear, but he couldn’t be sure with how his screams drowned out everything save the blinding agony. In the same vein, he wasn’t certain he actually felt her ensanguined lips press into his cheek. “We’re already halfway there, so it’ll be over before you know it.”

She moved to his left side, her vacant smile never once faltering even as his blood dribbled down her chin. Instinctively, he strained against the rope again, though he logically knew it would go no better than every other time he tried it. He could see Caeda lift her sword a third time and braced himself (for what little good it would do). Another warm splash of blood accompanied a second flare of excruciation as sharpened edge met fragile flesh. Once more, he lost all feeling in his hand even though Caeda’s blow failed to cut through his whole wrist in one go. She soon rectified that failing and cleaved the remaining strands of muscle, robbing him of his last appendage.

“There we go! No more summoning for them to care about!” He could still barely hear her. Everything hurt too much. Dear God, _why_ did it all have to hurt so bad?! It felt like someone had taken a blowtorch to both of his wrists! He could vaguely taste salt from the tears that flowed like a river into his mouth, still wide open from all his screaming. “I’m so proud of you, Kiran. You handled that spectacularly.”

He didn’t care what she thought of him – he just wanted something, _anything_ , to take the pain away. When she pressed another flask to his mouth, he didn’t hesitate to drink it, whatever it was. “That’s it, take your medicine. This vulnerary will help close the wounds. And I’ve got plenty of bandages here to stop the bleeding.” He couldn’t attest to the healing power of vulneraries, nor did he care in that moment. It didn’t bring any relief to his suffering, so it wasn’t worth thinking about. Whatever good it would eventually do, the pain, shock and blood loss proved to be too much.

He didn’t even notice when he went out like a light.

* * *

He didn’t want to wake up again. Waking up meant pain. It meant fear and paranoia and stress. It meant realizing his life of late had not in fact been nothing but a horrific nightmare born from too much pressure in his job as the Order’s tactician.

It meant Caeda.

But he did wake up. He did feel the throbbing in his foot and the fire at the ends of both his arms. He started whimpering and bawling first thing – he was too scared to assess the damage right out of the gate. Worst of all was that his crying only took a few seconds to attract the attention of his abhorrent admirer, earning him her voice in his ear yet again. “Thank goodness, you’re finally back!” He could feel her arms around him for what might as well have been the millionth time. “You’ve been out for almost a full day and I was starting to get worried! Your wounds have closed up, but I’m not sure how clean the scarring is – I haven’t changed the bandages since the bleeding first stopped.”

“…Kill me…” he whispered between the sobs.

“Hm? I’m sorry, did you say something?” He could feel her lean closer, and in response he opened his eyes to half glare, half plead at her.

“I said _kill me_!” His voice warbled from the crying, making it unclear whether he was begging or demanding. “Just do it! What are you waiting for?! If you’re going to maim me, you might as well go the full nine yards and cut my throat!” He shut his eyes again, too disgusted to even look at Caeda anymore. “ _Please_ , put an end to all this! What do I need me to say to push you over the edge?! I _hate_ you! I hate you more than anything in the world! So get mad and kill me already!” He just wanted to be free from Caeda, and he couldn’t bear to wait for a rescue any longer. As long as he didn’t have to suffer under her ‘love’ anymore, he didn’t care how he got out.

But she didn’t kill him. She did what she always did when he tried to tell her what a freak she was: she wrapped her arms around him. “Oh, you poor thing. You’ve lost so much blood that you’re delirious. Just give it a few days, sweetheart, and you’ll be back to normal.” He was reminded yet again that he had no escape from Caeda’s obsession and cried even harder. He began to doubt that anyone would ever rescue him from her grasp – at this rate, he would spend his whole life tied to chairs as she took him from hideout to hideout, always waiting for the next excuse to torture him.

And then, as if by divine providence, they heard the sound of footsteps outside the room. Not just one pair either; he could make out at least three in addition to the indecipherable voices having a conversation.

“Perfect timing!” Caeda got to her feet and pulled out the handkerchief again. “I’ll go tell them you can’t summon anymore and this whole business will finally be done.” She gagged him once more and practically skipped past him to the stairs that sat to his left.

 _…I guess for once it’s a good thing she never listens to anything I say._ He conceded, now aware of how ill-advised it was to try to goad Caeda into killing him just before help arrived. _It’s almost over now…it **has** to be. Please, don’t let her kill anyone else…_

“Caeda, it _is_ you!” He knew that voice – that was Marth! _Oh God…he has no idea what Caeda’s really like._ How would the Altean prince handle the revelation that his ostensible fiancé was a deranged psychopath? More importantly, would he _survive_ that revelation?

Unlike when Ranulf found them, Kiran wasn’t able to catch the entire conversation being had outside. He was only able to make out a few bits and pieces whenever somebody raised their voice.

“…the _hell_ are you talking about?!” Hector’s speech boomed into the room.

“…that I _love_ him…I _had_ to…” Caeda’s words sounded even more crazed now that they were juxtaposed with normal people.

“…did _what_?!” Sharena’s beautiful, sweet voice carried through the stone, its usual pep replaced with disgusted disbelief.

“…out of our way _now_!” Marisa, normally stoic and aloof, now echoed with passionate fury.

From the sound of things, that was the end of any discourse. He clearly made out several combative shouts followed by the noise of clashing metal. In only a few seconds, he could hear the whole group making their way towards the room, though he doubted Caeda was just letting them in. All of the sudden, she went flying into the chamber from the stairs, her movement halted only by skidding against the floor once she’d landed.

Opposite her trajectory stood Hector in all his glory, his torso twisted and hunched in the motions of a shoulder bash despite the presence of Armads in his right hand. He immediately began scanning the room and did a double take when he saw Kiran, his jaw slowly dropping in horror as he took in the appearance of both the summoner and his surroundings. Though his severed hands were nowhere to be seen, Kiran and the immediate area around him were still caked in dried blood. “By the gods…”

Stunned, he began walking towards Kiran with an outstretched hand. “Kiran!” Behind him, the other three members of his party arrived, Sharena calling out his name before letting out a shocked gasp. All three had the same expression as Hector and started mirroring his walk, too dumbfounded by what they were seeing to do anything else.

“ _GET AWAY FROM HIM!_ ” They were broken from their reveries by Caeda’s crazed shriek. Hector was too slow to fully react in time and suffered a stab to his axe shoulder from her sword.

“Gah!” He cried out in pain and began clutching the bleeding wound with his good hand, losing his grip on Armads in the process. Though she retracted her sword, Marisa leapt forward to engage her before she could capitalize on his faltered guard. The pinkette’s stone cold precision served her well against Caeda’s frenzied assault, but the pegasus knight fought like a woman possessed and refused to give her foe any quarter.

While she was being kept busy, Sharena rushed to his side to set him free. Marth, meanwhile, could only look between him and Caeda’s battle with uncomprehending consternation. “D-don’t worry, Kiran, everything’s going to be alright now.” Askr’s princess assured him. Now that he was finally face to face with someone else, her smile genuinely comforting instead of soulless and twisted like Caeda’s, Kiran cried further still.

But for once, his tears were of joy, not terror. Sharena’s face, the sound of her voice, even the stale smell of her shampoo – it was all such a relief that he couldn’t help the waterworks. She pulled out a small dagger and started by cutting his gag. He remembered the last time the handkerchief had been removed and his weeping took on a sorrowful edge as he thought of Ranulf’s mangled corpse. “S-Sharena, Caeda…” He struggled to form words, too overwhelmed by the contradicting emotions he was feeling. “R-Ranulf and Sue, s-she…!”

Sharena went pale as a ghost – she had likely been wondering what happened to the two of them and understood what he was attempting to say. Nonetheless, she kept her composure and tried to calm him down. “You can tell us everything later, Kiran. Let’s just concentrate on getting you out of this.” He focused on the sound of her voice over the noise of clashing steel just behind her. And he especially tried to block out Caeda’s manic cries as she swung her sword.

Sharena moved to cut his bindings and paused when she fully absorbed the mangled state he was in. He could see her whole body begin to tremble as tears of her own started forming in her eyes. “Heavens above…” she whispered, her words already distorted by the choking in her throat, “She _said_ that she…b-but I didn’t think she would actually…dear merciful gods, _why_?!” Even as wet streaks poured down her cheeks, Sharena steadied her hand and set about cutting him loose. When she freed his arms and moved to his legs, he heard the dagger clatter against the ground as she gasped. Apparently, she hadn’t noticed his twisted foot before then. Still, she barely took more than a second to recover and sever the remaining ropes tying him down.

“S-Sharena, I c-can’t…my f-foot isn’t…” He hadn’t had to stand on it to relieve himself since it was first broken, but he didn’t need a doctor to tell him it wouldn’t support his weight. Come to think of it, he hadn’t eaten anything since Caeda first injured him, had he? It was a miracle he hadn’t died from blood loss, but perhaps vulneraries had blood restorative properties; they seemed able to stop bleeding if nothing else.

At once, she was at his side to wrap her arms around his torso. “It’s okay, Kiran, I’m right here. Just hold onto me and–” She bit her lip and ducked her head when she realized he couldn’t hold onto her or anything else. “J-just swing your right arm over my shoulder. I’ll take care of everything.”

Unfortunately, the motion of him rising with Sharena’s support caught Caeda’s attention. “You _bitch!_ ” She screamed and, with a renewed burst of vigor, sent Marisa’s sword flying out of her hands. “ _DON’T TOUCH HIM!_ ” For an instant, Kiran thought it was all going to go to hell. Marisa and Hector were disarmed, Sharena was busy keeping him on his feet and Marth was still frozen by the stairs. He feared that even this beacon of hope would end in yet another bloodbath, that Caeda would again find a way to come out on top and drag him off to God knew what fate.

But the second before Caeda could rend Marisa’s heart, an armored gauntlet suddenly smashed into the back of her head, sending her crashing to the floor like a puppet that had its strings cut. Behind her limp body was Hector, his good hand clenched into a fist soaked with his own blood. They all stood there, panting as the adrenaline left their systems and they were left to make sense of what had just happened. When he took in the sight of his tormentor lying unconscious on the ground, one thought resounded through his mind:

It was finally over.

He buried his head in the crook of Sharena’s neck and soaked her skin in another wave of hot tears. He fell to his good knee, too moved by his sense of relief to stand upright. Gently, she sank with him until they were both kneeling. He threw both his arms around her waist and hugged her as tight as he could without hands to grip her armor. “T-thank you!” He sniveled. “Thank you, thank you, _thank you_ …!”

She patted and rubbed circles along his back. “I-it’s okay, Kiran.” Her voice hitched from the weight of her emotions just as his did. “Y-you’re safe now. Everything’s going to be fine.”

But everything would not be fine. Even ignoring the mental scars she couldn’t see, his injuries would change his life for the worse forever. Hector at least realized that and began kicking himself. “We should’ve gotten here sooner…” His solemn regret was a disturbing change of pace from his usual confident boisterousness. “Why didn’t we get here sooner…? If only we’d been faster, then maybe…”

“We might be too late for a lot of things,” Marisa commented as she retrieved her sword, “but we’re just in time to put a traitor down for good.”

That threat to Caeda snapped Marth out of his stupor. “Marisa, you can’t–”

Kiran glanced back to see Marisa spin on her heel and point her sword at the prince. “If I hear _one word_ in defense of that filth, I’ll have no trouble sending you to hell along with her. Or have you forgotten that she took a swing at you first?”

“N-no, but…” Marth gripped the sides of his head and shook it back and forth. “This doesn’t make any sense! I _know_ Caeda! I’ve known her most of my life! We’re betrothed for heaven’s sake! She would never do anything like this! There has to be _some_ explanation!”

“Didn’t you hear her?” Hector cut in, wincing as he pressed a torn piece of his cape into his wound. “She said she loves Kiran. If _this_ is her way of showing that, I’d say you should count yourself lucky she didn’t actually love you and you never really knew her.”

“That can’t be true…” He weakly asserted, staring into the palms of his hands. “Marisa, I _have_ to hear from Caeda why she did this. If I don’t get closure, I…I don’t know how I’ll live with myself.”

“If _you_ don’t get closure?!” Sharena looked up from Kiran’s shoulder to glare at Marth. “What about _Kiran’s_ closure, huh?! I’m not about to force him to live in a world where that…that monster is still breathing!”

“Not now…e-everyone…” Kiran stammered out, still trying to get his emotions under control. “I w-want everyone to s-see what she is for themselves. I want them to u-understand.”

“Good point.” Hector agreed. “I wouldn’t have been able to believe she was capable of this if I didn’t see her snap firsthand. We could even write up a formal order for execution – you know, make it official and stuff so there’s no room for doubt.”

“I…” Marth hesitated before sucking in a deep breath. “I understand. In fact, I wish to be the one to deliver the news to her. That will give me ample opportunity to speak with her and discern what drove her to these nightmarish lengths. Besides, she is…” he lowered his eyes and shook his head, “ _was_ my lover and comrade. It’s only fitting that I be the one to carry out the duty of determining the method to her madness.”

Marisa clicked her tongue but sheathed her sword all the same. “Tch. Fine. As long as she ends up dead, it makes no difference to me how we do it. But in the meantime,” she walked over to the bloody chair and picked up the tangled remnants of rope, “let’s make sure she’s in no position to hurt anyone else.”

While Marisa gave Caeda a taste of her own medicine, Hector kneeled at his side in spite of his injury to assist Sharena in lifting him up. “C’mon, buddy, let’s get you out of here.” Together, they helped him hobble to the stairwell. Marth ducked his head as they passed, probably ashamed of his inaction at such a critical moment. Kiran didn’t blame him – if he loved Caeda as much as Kiran thought he did, the prince’s whole world must’ve just been turned upside down.

They hopped him up the stairs one step at a time, careful to make sure nothing brushed his mangled foot. When they reached the entrance, Kiran was able to feel the sun on his face and the wind in his hair for the first time in what felt like decades. He basked in the warm afternoon glow and inhaled a lungful of fresh, clean air, his cheeks damp with one last set of happy tears.

In the bliss of his newfound freedom, Kiran finally managed to smile again.

* * *

Marth had specifically requested this responsibility, but now that the time had come to carry it out, he was dreading his decision.

He’d been there when they rescued Kiran, when…when Caeda had screamed bloody murder and tried to kill them all. He’d seen firsthand the mutilated stumps at the ends of Kiran’s arms that she’d made out of what she called some sick labor of love. He’d witnessed it all, but he still couldn’t reconcile any of it with his own experiences. Kiran’s testimony had only made his internal turmoil worse – the fact that it took the summoner several frightened, breakdown filled days to tell them everything was damning enough for Caeda, to say nothing of the horrible things he actually described.

Worse still was the trauma that now afflicted him in his everyday life: Marth had heard about how Princess Camilla tried to comfort him by stroking his hair, only for Kiran to recoil and start shivering in fear. Apparently, Caeda had been particularly fond of that gesture and it now brought a slew of unpleasant memories regardless of who did it. From the sound of things, she’d tainted yet more innocent means of affection like hugs and kisses to the point it was uncertain if Kiran would ever manage to be intimate with anyone again.

On top of all that was a guilty conscience that, no matter how often they refuted it, never seemed to die down. When Ike and the Greil Mercenaries first paid him a visit, Kiran couldn’t bear to look them in the eye and soon collapsed into a tearful mess of apologies and self-deprecation for not ‘saving’ Ranulf. Nobody hesitated to assure him that they’d never blame him for that – if anything, they all blamed themselves for not finding him sooner. Everyone, regardless of the world they hailed from, spent their time either insisting to Kiran that he was a faultless victim or calling for Caeda’s head on a pike.

Just about the only silver lining to the whole affair was that Kiran believed he could still use the Breidablik by operating it with his good foot. It was incredibly awkward, but he was at least able to pull the trigger by using his big toe. They still didn’t know if it would work the same once he actually tried it at the shrine, but he was determined to have optimism about _something_ ; Gods knew he needed it after all he’d been through.

In light of all that Kiran revealed and the invariable bloodlust that had filled every Hero, Marth knew beyond any doubt what Caeda’s fate would be, but he still felt he had an obligation to see for himself why she’d done what she did. He owed it to…to someone to do at least that much.

Whether that someone was Caeda, her father or himself, he couldn’t say.

In any case, he found himself descending alone into the seldom used dungeons of the Order’s castle. Even the fallen heroes had never done anything heinous enough to warrant imprisonment in these depths, which made Caeda’s presence there all the more disturbing. With a torch in hand, he passed the lone guard on duty into the dismal hall where she was being kept. Though it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes, he felt as though his walk provided several years’ worth of contemplation. Eventually, he came to rest before the lone occupied cell, the light of his torch illuminating her sunken frame as she hung from the chains binding her arms to the wall.

Now that he was face to face with her, Marth found all the words he’d prepared dead on his lips. Looking at his former fiancé, her ragged hair obscuring her face as it dangled from her head, he wasn’t sure what, if anything, would be appropriate to say to her after all that had happened. He didn’t know whether to be relieved or disconcerted when she saved him the trouble by speaking first.

“Where is Kiran?” She asked, her voice flat and empty.

“…Safe.” He answered, hoping it might stir some guilt in Caeda.

Unfortunately, judging by the scoff Caeda gave, his choice of response didn’t have the intended effect. “Safe? _Safe_?! After everything you’ve done, you think he’s _SAFE_?!” With every word spoken, Caeda became increasingly frantic until she pulled her head up to glare at him. “How can he be safe if I’m wasting away down here?! How is he supposed to be safe when I’m not by his side to take care of him?! Go ahead and tell me what makes you think he’s safe, _Marth_!” The sheer vitriol with which she spat his name caused him to flinch back, as if he’d been physically struck.

Nonetheless, he quickly recovered and shot back a rebuttal. “What makes you think he was safe with you?! You _cut off his hands_ , Caeda! You twisted his foot so far he may never walk on it again! In what world are those anything but cruel methods of torture?”

“I did that because I love him!” She countered without missing a beat. “I did that so you would finally leave us alone and we could live together in peace! And yet, even though he’s useless to the Order now, you’re _still_ trying to keep us apart!” The second he opened his mouth to point out the insanity of her assertion, she continued her verbal lashing. “Oh, _please_ don’t waste my time trying to justify yourself, Marth. I know _exactly_ why you won’t just let us go!”

At this point, he was driven mostly by a morbid curiosity of how far Caeda’s delusions went. As such, rather than deliver the news and be on his way, he opted to keep the discourse going. “Very well, Caeda. I’ll rise to your challenge, foolish as that decision may be. Why, pray tell, do you think I’ve endorsed your imprisonment here?”

“Because you’re _jealous_!” She all but snarled at him. “You’re jealous that I chose Kiran over you! You can’t stand knowing that you’re second best, so you’ve decided that you’ll never let us be happy together! You think that if you can’t have me, then nobody can! For that matter, everyone else is jealous too! They hate seeing our love and knowing they’ll never have anything that beautiful for themselves! So, like the green-eyed parasites you are, you’ve all resolved to deny Kiran and I the happy life we deserve!”

Before he realized it, Marth was shaking his head in numb shock at Caeda’s assertion. By all appearances, she truly believed everything she was saying – the idea that Kiran hated her for what she’d done or that they all genuinely cared for his wellbeing never once crossed her mind. He could scarcely believe such a demented, selfish line of thought was even possible. “What’s _happened_ to you, Caeda? What drove you to this lowly state?” Befuddled, he ran his free hand through his hair while she bristled at him. “How could everything have gone so wrong? When I pointed out the down of your pegasus caught in the brambles to my patrol, I thought we’d find you in the middle of a daring rescue, not the source of all this woe!” 

He was so caught up in his musings that he took a moment to notice how deathly still Caeda had gone. Her fury had given way to a foreboding silence that he saw as far more intimidating, especially since she’d ducked her head back down.

“…You did _what_?” She asked, her voice once again lacking in any emotion. “Are you saying that your patrol found us…because of _you_?”

Against his better judgement, Marth tried to stand his ground and talk her down. “Caeda, I was only–” She raised her head, and Marth, who had courageously faced the likes of the Shadow Dragon and brought his kingdom back from the brink of annihilation, instinctively backed up in primal fear.

For all that he had seen and done, the prince of Altea had never beheld a malice so pure and raw as the one currently directed at him by his former lover.

“Let me tell you what’s going to happen.” She began, her words all the more terrifying on account of the calm tone that delivered them. “Sooner or later, I am going to get out of here. When I do, you are going to _suffer_ more than anyone on Archanea has ever dreamed of in their worst nightmares. Oh, I won’t kill you. You’ll spend years alongside Hector and the others paying for what you did. But even after I finally decide to let them die, you’ll keep enduring the most horrific torture anyone could ever hope to fathom.”

“Do you understand, _sweetheart_? I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you writhe in agony! I’ll flay the skin from your bones and throw your body into a salt mine if that’s what it takes! But it won’t be enough. I could spend a thousand lifetimes making you pay and it still wouldn’t make up for keeping Kiran and I apart! So even when you’re maimed and begging at my feet to finally kill you, I’ll _never_ let you die before I’m through! Do you hear me, Marth?! _NEVER_!”

He had indeed heard every hateful, manic word she spewed as she strained against her chains. In response, he called up every pleasant memory of Caeda he could. He thought of her loving smile whenever they caught each other’s eyes. He remembered how she embraced him and nuzzled his chest after every successful battle. He dwelled on the sweet nothings they whispered to one another in the privacy of his tent late into the evening. Above all, he tried to latch onto the warm happiness she always brought to him in those days.

But his memories did not bring the comfort he hoped they would. Instead, their juxtaposition with the present only served to highlight how twisted Caeda had become. His reminiscence, combined with her fuming hatred, brought forth a tide of tears from the prince’s eyes. His weeping was not controlled and dignified as some would expect from a hero of royal blood; no, Marth bawled the way only one who realized they had lost a dear loved one could.

“I don’t know who you are anymore…” He managed to say between his sobs. “I don’t know who I’m talking to right now…”

“Oh, don’t you worry.” She growled at him. “You’ll have plenty of time to get to know me once I get free. If you have any sense at all, you’ll kill yourself before I can get my hands on you! But if all that pathetic crying is any indication, you’re probably too much of a coward to take the easy way out!”

When she once again mentioned her impending freedom, Marth remembered the official reason he was even there to begin with. As best he could, he tried to steel himself and control his sniffling. “That will never happen, Caeda. Neither my suicide nor your vengeance.”

She narrowed her eyes at his proclamation. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that if I were you.”

“I’m absolutely sure.” He took a deep breath and mustered all the formal composure he could. “The Order’s leadership, myself included, have passed judgement on you. You are to be publicly executed on the morrow.”

At once, her hostility dissipated into dumbfounded shock. Her narrowed eyes went wide as saucers as she took in the full weight of his declaration. “Y-you’re lying! Kiran would have to approve something like that! He’d never let you kill me! He loves me!”

Now that he was privy to this more desperate side of her madness and had come to terms with the fact that the Caeda he knew was long gone, Marth was, for the first time, able to identify what he felt for the shell of a woman before him. Even now, the pleasant past they shared meant he could not bring himself to hate her as she so clearly despised him. Nor did he remotely condone her sins as in any way justifiable. At best, he decided that he felt sympathy for her, the same way he would feel sympathy for a rabid dog while still accepting that it had to be put down for the greater good.

“I can assure you, Kiran was more than happy to see this sentence decided on. In fact, he specifically requested that you die in such a manner that everyone will be able to see you for what you really are. You can tell yourself whatever falsehoods you want to cope with that knowledge, but reality is what it is.” Even as he quashed the warbling in his voice the more he spoke, fresh wet streaks still ran down his cheeks. “You murdered Ranulf and Sue, assaulted me, Sharena, Hector and Marisa, and mutilated Kiran, all of which constitute high treason against the Order of Heroes and Kingdom of Askr. For these crimes, it was unanimously decided death was the only acceptable form of justice.”

He had said his piece, and as any further conversation would only worsen his grief, he turned to depart. “Where do you think you’re going?!” Caeda demanded as he walked away. “This isn’t over, Marth! I don’t know what lies you fed Kiran, but he’ll never let you do this to me! We love each other! He’ll do anything to set me free, you’ll see! He–he’ll come for me! He has to…” A single choked whimper echoed through the dungeon. “He loves me…he told me he does…”

Marth did nothing to fight the fresh set of tears that flowed as he left Caeda to her fate. He was reminded of the question she had always asked people: did they believe in love? He had always asserted that yes, he did; after all, he had a wonderful fiancé as proof of love’s magic. Now, however, he couldn’t bring himself to have the same conviction he once did.

He thought of his own Caeda waiting in his Archanea that he would return to once the Order served its purpose. Would he ever be able to look at her the same way again? Would he ever be able to open his heart to her without hearing those vile curses ringing in his ears? Would he live his life forever fearful that she was every bit as cruel and violent as this Caeda deep down inside?

Ultimately, his questions had no answers, and Marth’s heart felt hollow as he ascended back into the light of day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I understand if this chapter doesn’t sit well with a lot of people. For one, it’s a lot more brutal and graphic than the previous three (for perspective, the ‘yan’ part of the story accounts for like 70-80% of this as opposed to the ~50% in earlier chapters). For another, Caeda is especially vindictive and malicious to the other characters, Marth in particular. I can see people thinking that she went too far out of character to the point of ruining suspension of disbelief or just flat out being in poor taste. I chose her both because her level 40 line is already kind of creepy in the first place (“I look forward to observing you right up close…”) and because I wanted to have one of these explore what would happen when a girl with a canon love interest is twisted against them – Caeda being unrecognizable to Marth by the end was sort of the point.
> 
> I think Caeda takes the cake for most despicable yandere so far. Even by the standards of the other yandere, she was absolutely batshit fucking insane. Since she already had Marth, the Breidablik had to go above and beyond to make her love Kiran, which resulted in the rather extreme measures she took in regards to the both of them (though in all fairness, Ayra at least would probably act the same to Shannan if she got locked up because he caught her in the middle of a murder). 
> 
> Caeda was a Monopolizing Type, meaning she goes to any lengths to keep her loved one all to herself and sees literally everyone else in the world as expendable interlopers getting in the way of her love. In fact, despite all her talk of starting a family, I would consider there to be a non-negligible chance she could grow to see her children as competition too, which would end just as horribly as you’d imagine. Honestly, I could’ve made her any archetype I wanted and used that “do you believe in love” line as a justification, but I decided it was more fitting to go the extra mile and use her line to Ogma and the bridal line about her husband being safe on top of that.
> 
> This was the first chapter where we didn’t see the yandere’s POV and as such it’s also the first I consider to really go into the horror aspect of a yandere. The first three did awful things, but we at least got to see the internal logic that led them to do so (yes, even L’Arachel was following SOME demented train of thought). This time, all we got was outsider perspectives and whatever Caeda decided to share, which made her look all the crazier and more dangerous since you couldn’t tell what she would do next. Nor was it possible to tell when exactly she went off the deep end – she was insane by the tea party, but what about during the bridal festival? Was that a genuinely compassionate gesture to make him feel better or an attempt to feel out if she had any rivals while also endearing him to her? Or was it some mixture of the two? 
> 
> By the way, I’ve seen a few people comment about the rules of the world this takes place in. Aside from Kiran being the same kind of guy, about the only things this has in common with Journey Through Pressure is that dead characters stay dead and can’t be revived and there’s only one version of each character in the Order at a time. Everything else, from Kiran being affected by magic to the gateways, is fair game here. Sorry if anyone was confused by that.
> 
> Please leave comments, good or bad, since your feedback is how I learn (especially for something as dark as this). Thank you for reading.

**Author's Note:**

> I was really unsure if I should actually upload this thing. My excuse, at least for the first chapter, is that it’s October and thus in-season.
> 
> Why did I even write this? One, I need experience writing romance for Journey Through Pressure. Two, I do like yandere stories and this one yandere manga I was reading got cancelled in the summer, so I wanted my fix but had no outlet. Three, most yandere fics in Fire Emblem feature male yandere and I wanted to add some variety. Seriously, check the tags on Ao3. And most female yandere are the same handful of characters every time, which gets boring.
> 
> The title of the fic translates to “Destroyed Love” and was taken from a My Dying Bride song about a romance that starts out sweet and loving and degrades into possessive obsession. This’ll be a series of one-shots where each one features a different Heroes girl in a different yandere archetype. Some will just be mostly creepy, some will be outright violent and dangerous, none of them will be good people. Ayra might’ve been the protagonist here, but as a deranged, paranoid, homicidal psychopath, she was absolutely the villain too. I should hope you hated her for murdering Lucina for an incredibly minor offense. On the other hand, I also hope you thought the romantic moments were sweet and cute, since the contrast between the two is the whole point of yandere. Not every chapter will be from the yandere’s point of view, but this one kind of had to be since Kiran had no clue what Ayra was up to.
> 
> Ayra was an Eliminating Type, meaning her key trait is ruthlessly killing off anybody and everybody she sees as romantic competition. The more I wrote this, the more I thought it fit; Ayra’s a pretty vindicative character who’s seen in both Heroes and Genealogy threatening to do whatever it takes to kill someone for crossing her. That opening line about a hammer refers to her preferred problem-solving method: killing people is how she usually fixes things, so she applies the same method to love rivals. Kiran got off pretty easy this time, since she was more concerned with hurting perceived competitors than him, but not every archetype is so stable and forgiving. In at least a couple of these, he’ll meet a gruesome end.
> 
> I hope you liked this shameless, edgy nonsense, but I very much understand if you didn’t. Please leave comments, good or bad, since your feedback is how I learn (especially in this case where I’m trying to get practice on romance). Thank you for reading.


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